don't drink."

"I understand. But this is medicine," urged the foreman. "It will set
you right up."

"I haven't the least doubt of it," grinned the boy. "But I don't want to
be set up that way. You'll excuse me, Mr. Stallings. Don't urge me,
please."

The foreman replaced the flask in his pocket, a queer smile flickering
about the corners of his mouth.

"You are the right stuff, kid," he muttered. "If you stayed in this
business you'd be a foreman before you knew it. You are a heap sight
better than a lot of them now. Fall in. I'll ride around on the other
side of the herd, and urge them along from the rear. You ride up to the
right of the line and keep them pointed. Follow our trail. You will make
out the main herd very soon."

With renewed strength, Tad went at his work, though it was with an
effort that he kept his saddle. He was afraid he must collapse before
reaching the camp, and his straining eyes kept searching for the herd
and the white-topped wagon that he knew held what he needed most of all
at that moment--drink and food!

Soon Tad and the foreman made out a rising cloud of dust approaching
them at a rapid rate. Stallings waved his hand toward the cloud and
nodded to Tad, being too far away to call.

The lad shook his head in reply. He understood what the foreman meant.
Men were coming to their assistance and the boy was to push on for camp
alone.

The cowpunchers began to laugh as they rode up and observed the boy's
tattered condition.

"So the Pinto got a dose this time, eh?" jeered Lumpy Bates.

"You shut up!" snarled Big-foot Sanders, turning on him menacingly.
"He's brought them cows back, and I'll bet a new saddle it's more'n you
could have done. Don't you see the kid's near all in? Here you, Pinto,
you hike for camp!" he shouted.

"I'm staying with the cattle," announced Tad, firmly.

"Cattle nothing. It's the camp for yours and mighty quick!"

Without waiting for argument Big-foot grasped the reins of Tad's bridle
and whirling his own mount about, galloped away, fairly dragging Tad
Butler and his tired pony after him.

With no reins in his hands the boy was powerless to interfere. All he
could do was to sit in his saddle and be towed into camp.

"Please don't take me in this way. Let me ride in," he begged as they
neared the camp.

"All right," laughed Big-foot, slacking up and tossing the reins back
over the pony's neck. "It's a terrible thing to be proud, when a
fellow's dow