"Oh, there's work all right," said Dave, removing his big hat and wiping the sweat from his brow with a big handkerchief. "It isn't much like locating a water trail, I expect?" "Not much," assented the visitor, who had now been at the ranch about a week, and who was progressing favorably. His ankle would not yet permit him to step on it, but he managed to get about with the help of his horse. To-day he had ridden out in the chuck wagon to witness the round-up. "Locating a good place to plant an irrigation scheme is child's play compared to this cattle business," went on Mr. Bellmore. "Still I suppose you get more or less used to it." "In a way, yes," said Pocus Pete, who rode up just then. "But there are always some things you never can count on. Gimp's horse just broke his leg," he added, more to Dave than to the visitor. "You don't say!" exclaimed the lad. "That will make Gimp feel bad." "Well, it's all in the game," added the foreman with a shrug of his shoulders. "That's the end of him," he went on as a shot rang out. There had been little firing of late, for the work of branding the strays and other cattle was almost over. "Did he shoot him?" asked Mr. Bellmore. "Th' horse? yes!" said Pete sententiously. "That's all we can do for a horse when he breaks a leg. He ain't no good to anybody. That's the law of th' range. Yo've got t' make good or quit!" "Poor Star," murmured Dave. "He was a good horse." "While he lasted," added Pete. "But Gimp pulled him around too sudden like, I'm thinkin', t' get out of the way of an onery steer. Well, that's th' way it goes!" And Dave, as he thought of his own new and peculiar position, wondered if that was to be his way. He was really no one now. Would he be thrust aside, and not counted as one of the family? And yet, as he reflected on the fact that Mr. Carson had always known of their relation--or, rather their lack of relation--he would not be likely to change. "I wonder if I'll ever find out who my parents are?" thought Dave. "I must have some folks, somewhere." But as he recalled what had been told him--how he had been swept down the river in a great flood--the chances that he had any kin living seemed more and more remote. But the boy was awakened out of his momentary brown study. "Hi there!" "Look out for that critter!" "He's a bad one!" "Rope him!" Such were the wild cries that greeted Dave as he spurred away from the chuck wagon toward what seemed more than the usual commotion. A steer that had been roped and thrown that a new brand might be put over the almost obliterated one, had broken away and regained its feet and was wildly rushing here and there. A lasso had been thrown over his head, and this now trailed in the dust Several of the cowboys, clapping spurs to their ponies, set off either to throw more ropes about the escaping beast, or else to grasp the trailing lariat.