My name is Ross.
I'm the owner of about a fourth of the cattle in the big herd."
"I hope you don't feel angry with us for doing the best we could
to save our camp," Dick went on.
"You saved myself and the other owners a greater loss," replied
Mr. Ross, "so I thank you."
"You're quite welcome, Mr. Ross," smiled Tom Reade. "But what
was the shooting about?"
"I shot some of the cattle that appeared to be still alive, to
put an end to their suffering. You boys haven't any ice here,
have you?"
"No, sir," Dick replied.
"Too bad," said Mr. Ross. "If you had ice I could offer you a
prime lot of beef that it will hardly pay me to move, as I can't
get the animals cut up quickly enough and on ice, after the long
haul I would have to make."
"Are you going to leave the cattle on the clearing?" Dick asked
in sudden concern.
"We'll bury the carcasses," smiled Mr. Ross. "If we didn't the
smell would soon force you boys to move your camp a mile or two.
But see here! Ever have a barbecue?"
"No, sir," Dick made answer, his voice betraying sudden interest.
"Would you like one?" went on the owner. "A barbecue, real western
style, with a whole cow on the fire?"
"It would be great!" answered nearly all of Dick & Co.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90