nd here I am running my head right into trouble
again. Say, kid!"

"Yes."

"You'd better ask the Herr Professor to let you carry a gun. You'll need
it."

"What for--to lay ghosts with?" laughed the boy.

"Well, mebby something of that sort."

"Don't need it. I guess my fists will lay out any kind of a ghost that I
run against. If they won't, no gun will do any good. I don't believe in
a boy's carrying a pistol in his pocket. It will get him into more
trouble than it will get him out of."

"Well, that's some horseback sense," grunted Big-foot. "I never built up
against that idee before, but I reckon it's right. We don't need 'em
much either, except to frighten the cows with when they start on a
stampede, and----"

"It doesn't seem to stop them," retorted Tad, with a little malicious
smile. "It strikes me that a boy without a gun can stop a runaway herd
about as quickly as can a cowboy with one."

"Right again, my little pardner. Scored a bull's-eye that time. I guess
Big-foot Sanders hasn't any call to be arguing with you."

"We were talking about spooks," the boy reminded him. "I am anxious to
see that church. I've wanted to see one all my life----"

"What? A church?"

"No; a spook."

"Oh! Can't promise to show you nothing of the sort. But I'll agree to
stack you up against a run of hard luck that will make you wobbly on
your legs."

"That will be nothing new, Big-foot. I've had that already."

"Sure thing. That's the beginning of the trouble. As I was saying
before, we don't need the guns for any other reason unless it's against
cattle rustlers. Sometimes they steal cattle these days, but not so much
as they did in the early days of the cattle business."

"Think we will meet any rustlers?" asked Tad, with sudden interest.

"Nary a rustler will tackle this herd. First place, we are not yet in
the country where they can work profitably----"

"Where's that?"

"Oh, anywhere where there's mountains for them to hide in. I'll show you
where the rustlers used to work, when we get further along on the trail.
But, as I was saying, there are no rustlers hereabouts."

"Oh," answered Tad Butler, somewhat regretfully.

"You never mind about hunting trouble. Trouble is coming to this outfit
good and plenty, and I reckon a kid like you will be in the middle of
it, too. You ain't the kind that goes sneaking for cover when things are
lively. I saw that the other night. Stallings is going to write to Boss
Mille