The trio rode away, with Dell pointing out around the homestead the different beaver dams in the meanderings of the creek.  Joel resumed his mowing, and near noon sighted a cavalcade of horses coming down the dim road which his father used in going to Culbertson.  A wagon followed, and from its general outlines the boy recognized it to be a cow outfit, heading for their improvements.  Hastening homeward, he found Paul Priest, the gray-haired foreman, who had passed northward nearly two months before, sitting under the sunshade before the tent.

“Howdy, bud,” said Priest languidly in greeting.  “Now, let me think—­Howdy, Joel!”

No prince could have been more welcome.  The men behind the boys had been sadly missed, and the unexpected appearance of Priest filled every want.  “Sit down,” said the latter.  “First, don’t bother about getting any dinner; my outfit will make camp on the creek, and we’ll have a little spread.  Yes, I know; Forrest’s in Dodge; old man Don told me he needed him.  Where’s your brother?”

“Dell’s gone up the creek with some cowmen from Texas,” admitted Joel.  “They’re looking for a range.  I told them any agreement reached must be made with Mr. Quince.  But now that you are here, you will do just as well.  They’ll be in soon.”

“I’m liable to tell them to ride on,” said the gray-haired foreman.  “I’m jealous, and I want it distinctly understood that I’m a silent partner in this ranch.  How many cattle have you?”

“Nearly three hundred and fifty, not counting the calves.”

“Forrest only rustled you three hundred and fifty cattle?  The lazy wretch—­he ought to be hung for ingratitude!”

“Oh, no,” protested Joel; “Mr. Quince has been a father to Dell and myself.”

“Wait until I come back from Dodge, and I’ll show you what a rustler I am,” said Priest, arising to give his horse to the wrangler and issue directions in regard to camping.

The arrival of Dell and the cowmen prevented further converse between Priest and his protege.  For the time being a soldier’s introduction sufficed between the Texans, but Dell came in for a rough caress.  “What do you think of the range?” inquired the trail foreman, turning to the men, and going direct to the subject.

“It meets every requirement for ranching,” replied the elder cowman, “and I’m going to make these boys a generous offer.”

“This man will act for us,” said Joel to the two cowmen, with a jerk of his thumb toward Priest.

“Well, that’s good,” said the older man, advancing to Priest.  “My name is Allen, and this is my son Hugh.”

“And my name is Priest, a trail foreman in the employ of Don Lovell,” said the gray-haired man, shaking hands with the Texans.

“Mr. Lovell was expected in Dodge the day we left,” remarked the younger man in greeting.  “We had hopes of selling him our herd.”

“What is your county?” inquired the trail boss, searching his pockets for a telegram.