Thus the ranchman would turn the subject. Not that Dave gave the matter much thought, only now, somehow or other, the question seemed to recur with increased force. "Funny I don't know just when my birthday is," he mused. "But then lots of the cowboys forget theirs." The trail was smooth at this point, and Dave soon found himself close to Len, who was driving ahead of him a number of cattle. With a start of surprise Dave saw two which bore the Bar U brand. "Hello, Len," he called. Len Molick turned with a start. Either he had not heard Dave approach, or he had pretended ignorance. "Well, what do yon want?" demanded the surly bully. "Oh, out after strays, as you are," said Dave, coolly. "Guess your cattle and ours have struck up an acquaintance," he added, with assumed cheerfulness. "What do you mean?" "I mean they're traveling along together just as if they belonged to the same outfit." "Huh! I can't help it, can I, if your cows tag along with our strays?" demanded Len with a sneer. "That's what I'm here for--to help prevent it," Dave went on, and his voice was a trifle sharp. "The Bar U ranch can't afford to lose any strays these days," he resumed. "The Carson outfit needs all it can get, and, as representative of the Carson interests I'll just cut out those strays of ours, Len, and head them the other way." "Huh! What right have you got to do it?" "What right? Why my father sent me to gather up our strays. I saw some of them up here yesterday." "Your father?" The sneer in Len's voice was unmistakable. "Yes, of course," said Dave, wondering what was the matter with Len. "My father, Randolph Carson." "He isn't your father!" burst out Len in angry tones. "And you aren't his son! You're a nameless picked-up nobody, that's what you are! A nobody! You haven't even a name!" And with this taunt on his lips Len spurred his horse away from Dave's. CHAPTER III A CONFESSION Something seemed to strike Dave Carson a blow in the face. It was as though he had suddenly plunged into cold water, and, for the moment, he could not get his breath. The sneering words of Len Molick rang in his ears: "You're a nameless, picked-up nobody!" Having uttered those cruel words, Len was riding on, driving before him some of his father's stray cattle, as well as some belonging to the Bar U ranch. The last act angered Dave, and anger, at that moment, was just what was needed to arouse him from the lethargy in which he found himself. It also served, in a measure, to clear away some of the unpleasant feeling caused by the taunt. "Hold on there a minute, Len Molick!" called Dave, sharply. Len never turned his head, and gave no sign of hearing.