Mr. Carson was the "Old Man" referred to, but it was not at all a term of disrespect as applied to the ranch owner. It was perfectly natural to Pete to use that term, and Dave did not resent it. "Yes, I'm glad dad did send me East," the young man went on, as they continued on their way up the trail. "I was mighty lonesome at first, and I felt--well, cramped, Pete. That's the only way to express it." "I know how you felt, Dave. There wasn't room to breathe in th' city." "That's the way I felt. Out here it--it's different." He straightened up in the saddle, and drew in deep breaths of the pure air of the plains; an air so pure and thin, so free from mists, that the very distances were deceiving, and one would have been positive that the distant foot-hills were but half an hour's ride away, whereas the better part of a day must be spent in reaching them. "Yes, this is livin'--that's what it is," agreed Pocus Pete. "You can make them out a little better now, Dave," and he nodded his head in the direction of the two distant specks. They were much larger now. "It's a chap on a horse, and he's going in the same direction we are," Dave said, after a moment's observation. "That's right. And it ain't every cowpuncher on Bar U who could have told that." "I can see two--three--why, there are half a dozen cattle up there Pete." "Yes, an' probably more. I reckon some of th' Centre O outfit has strayed, same as ours. That's probably one of Molick's men after his brand," Pete went on. The Bar U ranch (so called because the cattle from it were branded with a large U with a straight mark across the middle) adjoined, on the north, the ranch of Jason Molick, whose cattle were marked with a large O in the centre of which was a single dot, and his brand consequently, was known as Centre O. "Maybe that's Len," suggested Dave, naming the son of the adjoining ranch owner. "It may be. I'd just as soon it wouldn't be, though. Len doesn't always know how to keep a civil tongue in his head." "That's right, Pete. I haven't much use for Len myself." "You an' he had some little fracas; didn't you?" "Oh, yes, more than once." "An' you tanned him good and proper, too; didn't you Dave?" asked the foreman with a low chuckle. "Yes, I did." Dave did not seem at all proud of his achievement. "But that was some time ago," he added. "I haven't seen Len lately." "Well, you haven't missed an awful lot," said Pete, dryly. The two rode on in silence again, gradually coming nearer and nearer to the specks which had so enlarged themselves, by reason of the closing up of the intervening distance, until they could be easily distinguished as a number of cattle and one lone rider. The latter seemed to be making his way toward the animals. "Is he driving them ahead of him?" asked Dave, after a long and silent observation. "That's the way it looks," said Pocus Pete. "It's Len Molick all right," he added, after another shading of his eyes with his hand.