"There, I feel better," he said." A heapsight better. And now what am I going to do with you?" he asked as he saw Len's abandoned horse cropping the grass near the tank. "I can't leave you here for rustlers to make off with. You're too good an animal, if you do belong to a mean skunk. And yet I don't feel like doing Len any favor. If I take you I may get into trouble with Mr. Molick, too.

"Oh, I'll take a chance though. Can't see a horse suffer," Dave went on, and when his own mount had sufficiently refreshed itself with water and food, the young cowboy leaped to the saddle and rode up to Len's animal.

He had no difficulty in catching the pony, as it was quite exhausted from the run. And thus leading his prize, Dave started back. Mr. Bellmore, who had done as Dave had, taken a long drink and a wash, was also much refreshed.

"It surely was tough luck," remarked the engineer, "but it couldn't be helped. We did our best!"

"I should say so!" exclaimed Dave. "I regard it as a pretty sure sign of his guilt—that running away; don't you?"

"Well, most people would, I think," said the Chicago man slowly, "and yet, from what you have told me, I guess Len would run from you anyhow, wouldn't he, if he saw you take after him?"

"He might," admitted Dave, with a grin, as he thought of the encounter he had had with the bully. "Yes, I guess he might. But we saw him start one fire; didn't we?"

"Yes, but of course he could claim that he was starting a back-fire, just as we did."

"Huh!" Dave mused. "I didn't think of that. But I'm sure Len did start the big blaze, anyhow. He wanted to either stampede our cattle, or burn some of them, and you can't make me think any differently."

"Oh, I'm not trying to," said Mr. Bellmore. "I'm only giving you an idea of the view a judge and jury might take of it, if you had Len arrested."

"I didn't think of that," Dave said. "I guess it won't come to an arrest, as far as that is concerned. We Western folk generally administer the law ourselves. If we waited for judges and juries we'd get left in a good many cases. But I don't believe Len will come back, in a hurry."

"Perhaps not But what are you going to do with his horse?"

"I don't know. Take it back with us for the time being. It's a good animal I might hold it as a sort of hostage until Len claims it. But I don't believe he will. Whew! That was some chase!"

"It certainly was," agreed Mr. Bellmore.

They rode back slowly. The air was gradually clearing of the smoke from the prairie fire, though far off it could be observed burning yet. But the worst of it was over. Bar U ranch was no longer in danger.

"What's the next thing on the programme?" asked Mr. Bellmore.

"Finish the round-up, get rid of as many cattle as we can, provide for the rest so they'll have plenty of water in the dry spell, and then fight the Molick crowd," said Dave.

"Plenty of room for action there," commented the engineer with a smile.

"I guess so," assented Dave. "But we're depending on your help."

"And I'll give it to the best of my ability. I think it is wise to undertake legal action as a starter to regaining control of your water rights. If they don't help us—-"

"Why, then we'll try some of our Western persuasive ways," finished Dave. "I guess dad will be anxious to get busy right away. This fire shows how desperate that other crowd is."

"Yes. And if the Molicks had a hand in starting it, which seems reasonable to believe, they probably did it out of revenge for the breaking of the dam. But we had a perfect moral, if not a legal, right to do that," the Chicago man said.

They rode back slowly, and soon overtook Pocus Pete, who was ambling along on his injured pony.

"How'd he get away?" asked Pete, as he saw Dave leading the riderless horse. "Was there any shootin'?"

"No, nothing like that," Dave replied. "He jumped on the fast freight, and left his animal behind."

"Huh! Well, maybe it's jest as well," the foreman said. "It's one skunk less in a country that's got more than its share. That's a good horse," he went on, sizing up Len's mount.

"Yes," said Dave. "You'd better take it for awhile, and give yours a rest."

"I will,' said Pete, dismounting and leaping to the saddle of the other. It was a great relief for his own mount, whose shoulder was badly wrenched.

"This is forcin' th' enemy to give us aid an' comfort," commented Pocus Pete, as he settled to the saddle, having put on his own in place of the one Len used, which did not fit the foreman.

Back over the burned prairie they rode. It was hot with the heat of the sun, which rose higher and higher in the sky, and the air, though it was morning, still seemed to have in it some of the heat from the big fire.

Dave and his friends found Mr. Carson and the cowboys waiting anxiously for them. The story of the chase and its failure was soon told.

"Well, you did your best, Dave, and I'm much obliged to you," said Mr. Carson. "I agree with you that it looks as though the Molick crowd was getting desperate, and trying to drive us out of the country either by a stampede or by fire. If you hadn't discovered that blaze in time there's no telling what might have happened. Now I've got to plan what to do."

"And let me help—Dad," said Dave in a low voice. "I want to do all I can for you and the Bar U."

Mr. Carson did not reply at once, but he held out his hand and Dave grasped it in a firm clasp. They understood one another.

A conference was held, and it was decided that the round-up should be finished as soon as possible, and the cattle intended for shipment driven to the nearest railroad point. The others would be scattered over the different grazing ranges Mr. Carson owned.

"And then we'll take up this water fight," said Mr. Bellmore. "If I had my papers here I could begin some preliminary work now."

"What you folks most need is a rest," said Mr. Carson. "You've been up the best part of the night, fighting fire, and on this chase. Now get some breakfast and stretch out in the shade of the chuck wagon. There's nothing to be done right away. Hop Loy, get 'em something to eat!"

"Slure I glet bleckflast!" exclaimed the happy-faced Celestial. "Plenty hungly Mlister Dave?" he asked cheerfully.

"Yes, plenty hungry," Dave assented.

While he, Pocus Pete and Mr. Bellmore rested after the meal Mr. Carson and the others finished the round-up work, branding such cattle as had not already felt the iron. Then the herds were separated, the ones for shipment being cut out from the others.

The next few days were busy ones, the work going on from the first peep of daylight until it was impossible to see. And in due time the shipment was successfully made.

"Well, I can breathe more easily now," said Mr. Carson, when the train had departed, some of his cowboys going with it to see that the cattle were fed and watered on the trip. "No matter what Molick does now he can't ruin me completely."

"That's so, and now we'll take up this water matter," said the engineer. "I'm afraid it's going to prove a legal tangle, though."

And so it did. The chief fight was about the ownership of the water rights at the point where Molick had built the dam that the Bar U boys had destroyed.

It had at once been rebuilt, as was expected and all water was shut off from Mr. Carson's land in that vicinity. But as he was not pasturing any cattle there for the present, no damage resulted.

"But you have a right to that water, and I'm going to see that you get your share of it," said Mr. Bellmore. "It was partly my fault that Molick built that dam, for if I had not mentioned it to him he probably would never have thought of it. So it's up to me to make this fight for you, and I'm going to."

Nor was the fighting all on one side. Molick brought suit against Mr. Carson for the destruction of the dam, but it would take some time to settle this, since many questions were involved.

In turn Mr. Carson sued the owner of Centre O ranch for shutting off the water supply. Mr. Carson, Dave and Mr. Bellmore also went before the Grand Jury and gave information about having seen Len starting a prairie fire. That body lost little time in returning an indictment against the missing bully. But of course it was out of their power to go after him and bring him back.

"But if he ever does come back I'll get him," the sheriff assured Dave. "He daren't set foot in this county again. Of course I'm not saying he's guilty, but I'll arrest him and he'll have to prove his innocence."

"That's all we want," said Dave.

Meanwhile the legal tangles increased. A number of suits were started on both sides, and as a result there were several physical clashes between the cowboys of the Bar U and the Centre O ranches.

The horse of Pocus Pete was more seriously hurt than he had at first thought, and he had to give his mount a long rest.

"But I've got Len's critter!" Pete chuckled, "and I'm goin' to ride that."

This he did to his own great satisfaction. Several times when he and his boys got into more than verbal arguments with the Centre O crowd Pete used Len's horse.

"It's like gettin' th' enemy's ammunition an' firin' it at him," said Pete with a laugh." I guess they don't relish it none."

And Molick and his crowd did not. They did not make a claim for the horse, however, since this would have involved admitting that Len rode it to escape from the country, and they did not want to do this. So Pocus Pete kept the contraband horse.

Work was easier on Bar U ranch after the big cattle shipment, but still there was plenty to do. Mr. Bellmore was busy working up his water irrigation project, in addition to helping Mr. Carson fight the Molick crowd. After a number of suits had been started Molick brought an action against the engineer for breach of contract.

"He claims I promised to go into the water matter with him, and then backed out," said Mr. Bellmore. "Well, I did nothing of the sort. I might have gone in with him, if you had not warned me, though Mr. Carson."

"Well, I'm glad I warned you, for he'd have you all tangled up if you had gone in with him."

"I guess you're right. But well get straightened out after a bit, I think."

The Molick outfit was the only one that fought the irrigation project. All the other ranch owners in the vicinity recognizing the value of it to their places, entered into it.



CHAPTER XXIII

THE CLEW

"Dave, are you fit for a little ride this morning?" asked Mr. Bellmore, about two weeks after the prairie fire.

"Why, sure," was the answer. "What's on?"

"I want to go over to the stone valley, and make some calculations of the flow of water there. It isn't much of a stream, to be sure, but if we're going into this irrigation scheme, we can't neglect even a small flow of water. We might want it in dry weather. I need some one to help me make the measurements."

"Why sure I'll go. Be with you in a little while. There's a little matter I want to see dad about, and then I'll come."

Though Dave spoke thus lightly of a "little matter," it was one that meant a great deal to him. For it was nothing less than an attempt he had made, or, rather, started, to solve the mystery of his identity.

All along, ever since Dave had been told the truth of his rescue from the Missouri flood, he had sought some means of finding out who he was. Mr. Carson had said there was no means of knowing, since he had made inquiries at the time in the vicinity of the flood, and no one had laid claim to the then small baby.

"Which led me to believe, Dave," the ranchman said, "that your parents and all your relations were drowned."

The young cowboy was silent after this, and a look of sadness came over his face.

"But there is a bare chance that some—even distant relatives—might have been saved," he said. "And on that supposition, if I had some little clew on which to start it might put me on the right track.

"How was I dressed when you found me? Wasn't there any distinguishing mark?"

"Huh! Well, now I come to think of it, perhaps there might have been," Mr. Carson had said. This conversation had taken place some time previously.

"What was it?" asked Dave eagerly. "Was there a note pinned to my dress? I suppose I must have worn dresses, if I was so little at the time?"

"Yes, you wore dresses," the ranchman said, with a far-off look in his eyes. He was struggling to recall the dim and distant past. "Yes, you had on a dress. I think it must have been white at the start, but the muddy water had stained it a dark brown. But there was no note or anything like that pinned to it. I looked for that. But you did have on something that perhaps might prove a clew."

"What was it?" asked Dave eagerly.

"It was a sort of life-preserver," said the cattle man. "At least I took it to be that.

"A life-preserver!" echoed Dave.

"Well, maybe I'm wrong about it, for I never had much to do with water or the sea," admitted Mr. Carson. "But it was some sort of a cork jacket. It was made from a lot of bottle corks, all strung together, and wound around in a sort of belt."

"They don't make life-preservers that way," said Dave, who had been on a trip East, and had seen the life-saving apparatus on a steamer. "A life- preserver is made from broad sheets of cork, sometimes granulated, and pressed together. I never heard of one being made of corks from bottles strung together."

"Well, that's what you had on," said the ranchman. "Maybe it was a home- made one. Come to think of it, that's probably what it was. I reckon it saved your life, too, for though you were on a pretty big piece of wreckage, you looked as though the waves had washed up over you a number of times. Yes, that home-made cork life-preserver undoubtedly saved you."

"What became of it?" asked Dave. "I suppose you threw it away. You must have had your hands full, looking after a small baby."

"Why, no, I didn't throw it away," said Mr. Carson slowly. "I sort of had an idea it might prove a relic, so I kept it."

"Where is it now?" asked Dave, eagerly.

"Well, I didn't take it all over with me," went on the owner of the Bar U ranch. "I left it in Denver with a lot of other things of mine. It's there yet I reckon, in storage."

"Could you get it?" exclaimed the youth, his eyes shining with eagerness.

"Yes, I reckon so. But what good would it do, Dave?"

"It might—it might prove my identity."

Mr. Carson shook his head.

"I'm afraid not," he said. "There wasn't anything to it but a lot of corks strung together. They were wound around you like a belt."

"But could you send for it? I should like to see it. And it might—it might, after all, be a clew."

"Well, I'll get it, of course. I suppose you aren't satisfied to be just what you are. You know I'll look after you all your life. You know that, don't you, Dave?" asked the ranchman softly.

"Yes—Dad—I know that," and the youth's voice faltered. "But I want—I just want to know who I am. I don't intend to leave you. I guess you know that. I haven't any other place to go. But I would like to know who I am. Maybe—maybe," and Dave's voice was husky, "I might have a—a sister somewhere in this world. Oh, what I'd give if I had!" and unshed tears shone in his eyes.

"Well, Dave, I never thought of it in just that way," said the ranchman. "Yes, what you say may be true. I'll send for this life belt of bottle corks, and let you look at it. Mind, I don't believe it will be of any use as a clew, but I'll send for it."

And so the matter had ended for the time being. There had been so much to do, what with the fire and the trouble over the water rights, that there had been a delay in sending for the old relic of the flood.

But finally Mr. Carson had written for it, together with some of his other goods in storage in Denver, and they had arrived that day. He had promised Dave to unpack them, and show him the belt, and it was this matter that the young cowboy wished to see about before going over to the stone valley with Mr. Bellmore.

"Well, Dave, there it is," said Mr. Carson, as he opened a trunk, and took out several articles. "Here's the little dress and the other things you wore when I hauled you from the water."

He held up a white garment, clean, but yellow with age, and smelling faintly of some perfume.

"It doesn't look as though it had been through a flood," said Dave.

"No, I had it washed and ironed, and then a lady I knew packed it away in rose leaves for me. She said that's how she kept the baby clothes of her own little ones. Those are the shoes you wore," the ranchman went on, as something fell to the floor, when Dave unrolled the dress.

The shoes, too, had once been white, but were soiled now, not having responded to the cleansing process as had the dress. They were stuffed out with wads of paper.

"It would be some job to get in them now," Dave remarked with a smile as he glanced down at his booted and spurred feet. "Some job!"

"Yes," assented Mr. Carson. "And here's your petticoat, Dave. I reckon that's what you call it," and he held up some other garments. "I saved 'em all," he said, "thinking they might be a clew, but they never turned out so."

"But where is the cork belt?" Dave asked. He was impatient to see that. He realized that baby dresses must be more or less alike, with seldom a distinguishing mark. But the cork belt impressed him with the possibility of being different.

"Here it is," said Mr. Carson.

From amid the contents of the trunk he pulled out a queer object

Dave held it up to get a better view of it. As Mr. Carson had said it was a belt, composed of a number of corks strung together on a strong cord, there being many rows of them, one above the other. The corks were of all sizes, the cord passing through them on the short axis. There were two holes for the arms, and a sort of tape by which the belt could be tied around one.

It was small, clearly made for a child, though for a larger one than Dave could have been at the time he was picked up in the flood.

"I must have rattled around in that?" he said, with a questioning look.

"Yes, it was lapped around you a couple of times," said the ranchman. "But, just as I said, Dave, it isn't much of a clew. They are just common corks."

This was so. There were no marks on the corks, as far as Dave could see, by which any identification could be made. He looked closely at the odd life-preserver.

"I say, Dave, are you coming?" called Mr. Bellmore from without.

"Right away," was the answer.

Dave sadly laid down the cork jacket and went out.



CHAPTER XXIV

BROTHERS

Profound indeed was the impression made on Dave by the sight of the childish things in the trunk Mr. Carson had received from Denver. Sadness, too, was mingled with his feelings. Somehow he felt as though the last hope had gone from him, for he did not see how he could find any clew to his identity in the corks, strung into such a queer jacket.

Dave tried to look cheerful as he came out to join Mr. Bellmore for the ride across the prairies to the place where they were going to measure the flow of water. He did not want his companion to suspect anything.

"Feel like taking it on the gallop?" asked the engineer.

"Yes, I guess Crow can stand it if your animal can," Dave said.

"Oh, I'll bank on Kurd!"

Together they were off at a fast pace that fairly ate up the distance, and soon they were half-way to the place where a small stream had given Mr. Bellmore hopes that he could add it to his water conservation scheme.

"I wonder how it would be to take a trip over to the Molick dam, and see what they're doing?" suggested the water man. "It's just as well to keep tab on those fellows."

"Go ahead, I'm with you," said Dave.

They changed their course slightly. The whole day, or, rather, the best part of it was ahead of them, for they had made an early start. Dave had not much to do at the ranch since the big cattle shipment, though Mr. Carson was getting ready to increase his stock as soon as the question of providing water for them was settled.

"Looks as if something was going on," commented Mr. Bellmore, as they approached the place where the Molick dam had been rebuilt.

"Yes, there's a crowd there, anyhow," agreed Dave. "And some of them are on our land, too!" he exclaimed, excitedly.

"Now take it easy," advised his friend. "This matter must take a legal course, since we have started it that way. Keep cool."

"Oh, I will" the young cowboy promised, as he spurred on, followed by the engineer.

They found Molick and several of his men making a sort of supplementary dam, the water having backed up more than they had calculated on, so that some of it was now flowing in the old bed of the stream over Mr. Carson's property. It was to prevent this that another dam was being made.

"He wants to get every drop!" said Dave, bitterly.

"Yes," assented the engineer. "He isn't satisfied with a fair share."

Some of the workmen who knew Dave seemed a bit embarrassed as he caught them on the Carson land, for it was necessary for them to go there to complete the dam. The young cowboy, however, said nothing, preferring to leave it to Mr. Bellmore. The latter looked significantly at Molick, and remarked:

"Seems to me you're overstepping a bit; aren't you?"

"I don't know that I am," was the surly answer.

"Why, you're on Bar U land—or some of your men are."

"I know it."

"What gives you the right?"

"The law. It says I can go where I have to, to recover my property. I guess that's right enough."

"Where is any of your property on Mr. Carson's land?"

Molick pointed to the trickling water.

"That's mine," he said. "It's escaping from my pond over the dam. I'm making the dam bigger, and if I have to go on Bar U land to do it, to save my property, the law gives me a right. I know what I'm talking about, for I've looked it up."

As this was a point on which the engineer was not certain of the rights of Mr. Carson, he thought it better to say nothing. He observed, however, that there was more water than even he had calculated on, and that though the dam were raised it would overflow again, thus necessitating further trespassing on the Bar U property.

"And if the flow keeps on increasing," the engineer reasoned, "it will give us a water supply in spite of all Molick can do. Guess I'll let matters take their course for a while."

He said as much to Dave in a low voice, and the two rode away. They had seen all they needed to.

"Dad can pasture here again soon," said the young cowboy.

"Yes," assented the engineer, "I guess we don't need to worry much. There'll be more water than Molick can impound unless he raises a big concrete dam, and before he can do that we'll have legally established our own rights, I think."

They resumed their way to the valley to measure the water there, and for some time were kept busy, Dave helping his friend make the calculations.

"Well, there isn't as much as I thought there'd be," was the comment of the engineer, "but every little helps. We'll make a different section of this a year from now. If it wasn't for Molick standing out against the irrigation scheme we'd have the whole of Rolling River Valley in it,"

"Is there any way of forcing him?" asked Dave.

"There may be, after he sees what he's missing."

Together they rode home in the early evening. Now that the work of the day was over Dave's mind went back to the scene of the morning, when he had handled his baby garments and the cork jacket. His manner must have been strange and distracted, for Mr. Bellmore said:

"What's the matter, Dave?" You act as though you had lost your last friend."

"Well, I have, in a way," was the unexpected answer.

"You have! What do you mean? Seems to me, if I were you, with the kind of a father you have, and a dandy ranch like this I'd be the happiest fellow on—"

"I haven't any father!" burst out Dave. "And that's the trouble. Oh, it's just as Len Molick said—I'm a nameless nobody!" and his voice choked and broke.

Mr. Bellmore rode his horse over beside Crow. He put his arm around the lad, who hung his head.

"Look here, old man!" said the engineer. "I don't want to intrude, but if it will do you any good, tell me all about it!"

"I will!" exclaimed Dave, taking a sudden resolve. "I wasn't going to tell you," he went on, after a pause, "for, though some of the fellows at the ranch know it, and though some over at Centre O do, also, still I wasn't going to tell you. I was so happy before I knew it."

Then, slowly, and haltingly, he told how Len Molick had fired the taunt at him and how, upon making inquiries of Mr. Carson, the latter had confirmed the rumor, saying that Dave was not his son, though he loved him as such.

"And where did you say he found you?" asked the engineer. There was a curious light in his eyes, and an eager expectancy in his manner.

"It was during a flood somewhere in Missouri. I've forgotten the exact name of the place. He can tell you. He picked me up on some wreckage, and looked after me. That was a long while ago—or at least it seems so," Dave remarked with a smile.

"It couldn't have been so very long ago. You're not more than twenty; are you, Dave?"

"Nineteen, I think. Of course I don't know my exact age."

"No, I suppose not. Then I'm not so much older than you. I'm twenty-seven. But yours is a strange story. Dave, we are brothers in misfortune."

"Brothers in misfortune! What do you mean?" cried the young cowboy.

"I mean, that I haven't any near relatives either. And while I do know who I am, and who my parents were, still that isn't much satisfaction. I have lost them."

"Lost them?" Dave echoed.

"Yes, and in a flood, such as nearly claimed your life. I must find out just what town you came from. It may be that our folks lived in the same place. It would be a strange coincidence, but it might be that it is so. I lost all my folks, including a baby brother in a Western flood. I don't know many of the particulars, for I was with relatives in Ohio at the time, so I escaped.

"I am anxious to hear Mr. Carson's story. It interests me mightily. To think that we have gone through much the same sort of suffering. But I should have thought so small a baby as you must have been at the time would have been drowned."

"I would have been if it hadn't been for one thing," returned our hero, with an odd little smile.

"One thing? What was that?"

"I doubt if you can guess."

"Maybe you were bound fast to the wreckage, or it didn't float into deep water."

"I don't know about being bound fast, but I do know the wreckage floated around, or rather, down stream. But that wasn't what I referred to."

"What was it?"

"Can't you guess?"

"I don't think so."

"I had on a cork life-preserver," said Dave. "I was looking at it this morning when you called to me."

"A cork life-preserver?" excitedly repeated Mr. Bellmore. "Was it—was it any particular kind, Dave?"

"Why, yes, it was. But why do you look at me so strangely?"

"Never mind that now! Tell me about that life-preserver. How was it made?"

"From bottle corks strung together and made into a belt. I had it around me when dad—I mean Mr. Carson—picked me up. I—I thought the preserver might be a clew but it isn't, for—"

"A clew! Of course it is!" fairly shouted the engineer. "Hurrah, Dave it is a clew. Put her there, old man! Shake! I said a while ago that we were brothers in misfortune! We're more than that.

"We're real brothers, Dave Carson—no, not Dave Carson any longer! Dave Bellmore! We're brothers, I tell you! brothers !"



CHAPTER XXV

THE NEW RANCH

For a moment the two remained with clasped hands, looking deep into the eyes one of the other. Then Dave, with a deep breath, murmured:

"Brothers! Is it possible?"

"Not only possible, but probable!" cried Mr. Bellmore. "We are brothers, I tell you, Dave! Your mention of that cork life-preserver almost proves it to me."

"Why so?"

"Because, before I went away to the East, to visit, I made one just like that with which to learn to swim. I did learn, too, with it. Of course I'd have to see this one to be dead sure, but it isn't likely that there would be two cork life-preservers made in that way. I'm sure it was mine you had on when you were rescued. Come on, we'll gallop to the ranch and find out."

They set off at top speed, Dave's heart beating madly with hope.

"Oh, if it should prove true, after all!" he murmured over and over again. "That I really have some folks at last!"

As they rode Mr. Bellmore briefly told how, as a boy of about ten, he wanted to swim in the stream that ran near his home.

"This was in Missouri, too," he said, "so that adds to the assurance I have that we are brothers, since it was in Missouri that you were found by Mr. Carson. I made that life preserver out of a design from my own head. I know I had to beg and borrow corks from all the neighbors before I had enough. But with that on I simply could not sink, and so I learned to swim.

"I wanted to take it East with me, but my folks persuaded me to leave it at home. And poor mother or father must have fastened it on you when the flood came. Oh, I'm sure it's the same one. We are brothers!"

Once more they clasped hands and looked into each other's eyes.

It was two excited individuals who burst into the ranch house of Bar U a little later. Fairly leaping from their steeds Dave and Mr. Bellmore sought Mr. Carson.

"Dad, where is that cork life-preserver?" asked the young cowboy. The use of the word "Dad" seemed perfectly proper under the circumstances.

"The life-preserver?" repeated the ranchman, wonderingly.

"Yes, Mr. Bellmore—Benjamin," said Dave, using the name for the first time, "Benjamin thinks it's one he made, and if it is I'm his brother!"

"His brother?" Mr. Carson looked from one to the other, as if doubting whether he had heard aright.

Slowly the cattleman again produced the old relic. At the first sight of it Mr. Bellmore exclaimed:

"Yes! That's it! I'd know it anywhere! Dave, there's no doubt but that you are my brother! Shake!"

"But are you sure?" asked Mr. Carson.

"Positive!" exclaimed the young engineer. "See, I can point out a dozen little points about this belt that makes me certain it is mine," and he did. He even recalled where he got certain oddly-shaped corks from the neighbors.

Then he related his story—how he had lived as a boy in the town where, later, the flood came and swept away the Bellmore home, taking Dave with it. The future engineer was away at the time of the disaster, and he knew nothing of the particulars of the rush of the waters, save what relatives told him afterward.

"But they said my whole family was drowned, including my little brother," he went on. "His name wasn't Dave, by the way, but Charles."

"I named him Dave," said Mr. Carson.

"And I'm going to keep it," Dave said.

"It's just as well," decided Mr. Bellmore. "But, as I said, all I know is what I was told. I was only about ten years old at the time, and you must have been about two, Dave. How it happened we can only guess, but mother or father must have put my odd cork life-preserver on you when they saw the waters rising, and it probably saved your life when the house was carried away. What a strange coincidence!"

"Isn't it?" agreed Mr. Carson. He could add little to the story, for all he knew was the finding of the baby. His inquiries had come to naught, so it was assumed that all the rest of the Bellmore family had perished in the high waters.

"And what did you do when you heard you had no folks left?" asked Dave of his brother.

"Well, I was too young at the time to realize all that it meant. My Eastern relatives came to Missouri with me in the hope of finding some of our folks, but we never did. Then they took charge of me until I grew up, and entered upon my profession.

"And all these years I've been thinking I had not a near living relative, when, all the while I had a brother!" and he looked fondly at Dave.

"And to think I believed myself a nameless nobody!" Dave returned.

"Well, you're Dave Bellmore, from now on."

"Dave Carson Bellmore," corrected the other softly.

"Oh, I see!" Mr. Bellmore exclaimed. "Of course."

And so it was arranged. The story created no end of wonder at Bar U ranch, and Dave and his brother were congratulated on all sides. The Eastern relatives were communicated with, and one sent a letter mentioning a certain birthmark on Dave's arm, which would be there if he was really the Bellmore baby. The mark was found, and thus the matter was fully proved.

"Well, now that you've found your brother, I suppose you'll shake Bar U ranch—and me," said Mr. Carson some time later.

"Not much!" cried Dave with shining eyes, as his arm went around Benjamin. "I'm a cattleman first, last and always. If you haven't any room for me here I'll have to start out and work for some one else, I guess."

"Not while I've got a horse to ride," said the ranchman significantly.

A few days later the matter of trying the various lawsuits came up. It was a tedious proceeding, with which I will not burden you, but to be brief I will say that Mr. Carson won nearly everything.

It was settled beyond dispute that the Molick ranch had no right to build the dam and shut off the water from the fine pasture. So that was saved to Mr. Carson. And not only that, but certain other water rights that Mr. Molick had claimed, were taken from him, and restored to Bar U.

"That means I can go into the cattle-raising business on a larger scale than ever," declared the ranchman.

Mr. Molick was allowed to retain enough of the water for his own stock, so that his ranch was as valuable as ever. He recognized when he was defeated, and when the court business was over he approached Mr. Bellmore, rather shamefacedly, it is true, and requested that he be allowed to come into the general water and irrigation scheme.

"No, sir!" exclaimed the engineer. "You had your chance and would not take it. It's too late now. All our plans are made and your ranch isn't included."

"Then if you won't take me in I'll sue you and make you."

"Go ahead," was the cool response. "You had your chance and turned it down. We aren't depriving you of any water. You'll have all you need, but you won't have any over, as the rest of the ranchmen will. Go ahead and sue."

Molick did, but he was defeated, and then, as his son Len dared not return to the vicinity on account of the fire indictment, there came an unexpected turn to affairs.

"I hear Molick wants to sell out," said Pocus Pete, coming to the Bar U ranch house a few days after the defeat of the bully's father. "And he'll sell out cheap, too."

"Will he?" asked Mr. Bellmore. "Then I know some one who will buy."

"Who?"

"I will! Dave, I've been thinking for a long time of going into the cattle business. I think it will pay better than water engineering. I've been hoping for a chance to get a good ranch, and now that Molick's is on the market, I'm going to take it"

"Good!" cried Mr. Carson. "I'll have decent neighbors all around me then. And if you want any money, Mr. Bellmore—you and Dave—"

"Thanks, but I'm pretty well off. I've saved a bit. I think I'll invest it in Centre O, but I'm going to change the name, with your permission."

"What are you going to call it?" asked Dave. "Bar U-2. How does that strike you?"

"Fine!" Dave exclaimed.

"Couldn't be better!" declared Mr. Carson. "We'll combine the two ranches into a new one, and with the water supply we'll have there won't be a place in this country that can hold a candle to us. Shake!"

"Do you really mean it?" cried our hero, his eyes shining with delight.

"Sure I mean it," answered the man who had been a father to him, with much feeling.

"It's a fine thing to propose," put in our hero's newly-found brother. "A fine thing indeed."

"I've got to do it—to keep Dave by me," answered Mr. Carson.

"I'll stay—don't worry," answered the boy, with a happy grin.

And so it was arranged. The Bellmore brothers, as they were now called— Dave and Benjamin—purchased the Molick ranch and it was added to the Carson holdings under a general partnership agreement. More cattle were purchased, and to-day the Bar U-2 is one of the finest ranches in the West. The water irrigation scheme, planned by Mr. Bellmore was a complete success, though when he took up ranching with Dave, another irrigation engineer succeeded to the managership. The Molicks—father and son— disappeared, but most of the cowboys, with the exception of Whitey Wasson, were hired by Dave and his brother.

"Though if it hadn't been for Len and Whitey I might never have found you, Ben," said Dave, with shining eyes.

And that is the story of Cowboy Dave—a "nameless nobody" no longer—but an honored and respected member of the community. And Mr. Carson, who had no near kith or kin, has promised to make the Bellmore brothers his heirs.

THE END