CHAPTER I THE PACK Pulling his pony to a sudden stop, the rider gazed intently at a cloud of dust sweeping over the horizon. His companion, a slightly younger lad, with facial characteristics so similar that anyone would have instantly labeled these two as brothers, reined in his own mount and likewise stared at the dust cloud. “Coming?” he asked, more to himself than to his brother. “Going,” the other answered decidedly. “And he’s not waiting to count his money, either. I’d like to get a look at that hombre, Teddy.” “For reasons of your own, I guess,” Teddy Manley responded. Then he laughed. “And to what may we attribute this sudden curiosity, Roy?” “You know as well as I do,” Roy Manley answered shortly. “Just about this time each year I get a craving to know every man who rides as close to our cattle as that--and you should, too. With round-up so near, this is no time for fooling.” “As the African said when the lion sneezed in his face.” Teddy watched the dust disappear as the distant rider sank down behind a hill. Then he turned his head slowly, his gaze sweeping over the panorama of the brown, sun-drenched mountains, walling in the uneven plains like a gigantic picture frame. “Maybe he’s just viewing the beauties of nature,” the boy said, and urged his horse forward again. “Or on his way to Sunday-school on Monday,” Roy responded disdainfully. “If he’s interested in scenery, what does he ride like that for? He was sure burning up the ground.” “Oh, well, I give up,” Teddy declared impatiently. “Give that active mind of yours a rest, will you? Let’s get on the job again. Golly, there’s another break! Have the animals around here taken to eating wire?” Sliding off his horse and trailing the reins over the animal’s head, Teddy Manley drew a pair of pliers from his pocket and walked toward the fence. His brother, grumbling to himself, followed. Riding fence was not easy work, this late in the year. Somehow, there seemed more labor to be done in the fall than at any other time. They had repaired six breaks in the last mile. “Bring some of that extra wire,” Teddy called, fingering the top strand of the fence, which dangled loosely. “This will never reach.” He looked at the break thoughtfully, as though wondering how it had occurred. But what he said was: “See if my gloves are hanging on my saddle, will you? My hands are cut now from this stuff.” “Here’s the wire,” Roy declared, holding out a coil. “And your gloves are in your back pocket. I’ll anchor this end while you splice. Say, this looks as though it had been cut!” He seized the wire excitedly and stared at it. “Look how clean this break is, Teddy!” “Yea, and look how rusty the other end is, too,” Teddy said sarcastically. “I just wiped this piece off with my hand. Here--pull hard now, and we’ll get this together.”