new
where it belonged," spoke Bud. "That's something!"

They were rather late getting back to camp, for Dick's pony went lame,
and the others accommodated their pace to his. It was dusk when the
little party hit the borders of Diamond X Second, and saw the grazing
cattle.

Bud saw something else, for as he rode ahead he called:

"What's he doing?"

"Who?" asked Nort.

"Pocut Pete," replied Bud. "Looks like he was trying to brand one of
our cattle with his knife! Look! That's mighty queer!"

CHAPTER XVII

"GERMS!"

Pocut Pete did not become aware of the approach of the boy ranchers and
Old Billee until they were almost upon him. He was either so intent on
what he was doing, or else the fact that the ponies were on a grassy
footing made their advance practically noiseless, that, seemingly, he
heard nothing.

However it was, the cowboy, about whom Bud entertained suspicious, kept
on with what he was doing--something strange to one of the
milder-tempered steers. Something "mighty queer," as Bud had said in a
whisper to his chums. Which whisper accounted for the fact that Pocut
Pete had not heard the voice.

So it was not until their shadows, mingling with those of the
descending night, fell athwart him that the cowboy looked up with a
start.

"Oh!" exclaimed Pocut Pete, and then Bud and the others saw that he had
a knife in his hand, and something else. Something that glistened when
Old Billee struck a match to light his pipe. For the old cowboy had,
long ago, passed up the inevitable paper cigaret, and used the more
sedate form of the weed.

"What's the idea?" asked Bud, and his question seemed to give Pocut
Pete a chance to pull himself together, to answer with more coolness
than he had exhibited by his first exclamation.

"This steer had some sort of a growth on his shoulder--like a wart,"
explained the cowboy. "I was just seeing if I could cut it off."

"You'd better be careful!" warned Old Billee.

"Why?" asked Pocut Pete so quickly that the other's remark might have
well carried a threat, which, in the tone Billee used it, did not.

"You may get horned," went on the veteran cow puncher. For many of the
cattle on the range of Bud and his cousins "wore their horns long," so
to speak. Gradually the dehorning system was spreading through the
west, but such an innovation, found to be most practical from all
standpoints, took time to grow.

"Oh, this chap isn't dangerous," went on