Ned.

Stacy Brown had finished his meal, mounted his pony and was now riding
toward the herd at what was for him a reckless speed.

All at once they saw him pull his mount sharply to the left and drive
straight at a bunch of cattle that the cowboys had separated from the
herd a few moments before.

The boy was too far away, the racket too loud, for their voices to reach
him in a warning shout.

Stacy, having observed the cattle straying away, and having in mind Tad
Butler's achievement in driving back a bunch of stray steers, thought he
would do something on his own account.

"I'll show them I can drive steers as well as anybody," he told himself,
bringing down the quirt about the pony's legs.

The strong-limbed little beast sprang to his work with a will. He
understood perfectly what was wanted of him. A few moments more, and he
had headed off the rapidly moving bunch, effectually turning the
leaders, sending them on a gallop back toward the vast herd fighting and
bellowing in the cloud of dust they had stirred up.

The cowboys were so fully occupied with their task that they had failed
to observe Stacy Brown's action, nor would they have known anything
about it had not Tad, yelling himself hoarse, managed to attract the
attention of the foreman.

Tad pointed off to where Chunky was jumping his pony at the fleeing
cattle, forcing them on with horse and quirt.

They had almost reached the main herd before Tad succeeded in informing
the foreman.

One look was enough for Stallings.

Before he could act, however, the stray herd had once more mingled and
merged with his own. The work of the cowboys had gone for naught.

Stallings fired three shots into the air as a signal to his men to stop
their cutting out.

"Will you young men do me a favor?" he asked.

"Certainly, Mr. Stallings," answered Tad.

"Then ride around the herd and tell the boys not to try any more cutting
out until the herd has quieted down. The dust is so thick that we can't
do anything with the cows, anyway. You have some sense, but that's more
than I can say for your friend, Brown. Of all the idiotic--oh, what's
the use? Tell him to mind his own business and keep half a mile away
from this herd for the rest of the afternoon."

"All right, sir. Where did those cattle come from?"

"I don't know, Tad. They have broken away from some nearby ranch.
Probably somebody has cut a wire fence and let them out. That's the
worst of the wire fenc