don't believe there is anything spooky about that building.
I'm going to investigate, the first time I get the chance. Have we time
to stop this morning?"

"No; we'll have to be getting along. The ponies we are after will have
to be hobbled and got back to camp somehow. I expect we'll have a merry
circus with them. If we get back in time for supper we'll be lucky."

"That will be fun," exulted Tad. "Mr. Stallings promised me I might
break one of them. My pony having been drowned, I should like to break a
fresh one for myself."

"And break your neck at the same time. I know you've got the sand, but
you let that job out, kid. You don't know them bronchos."

"I thought you said I was no longer a tenderfoot," laughed Tad.

"Sure thing, but this is different."

"I'll chance it. You show me the pony I cannot ride, and I will confess
that I am a tenderfoot."

Their arrival at the Ox Bow ranch was the signal for all the dogs on the
place to try out their lungs, whereat a dozen cowboys appeared to learn
the cause of the uproar. The McClure house stood a little back, nestling
under a bluff covered with scant verdure, but well screened from the
biting northers of the Texas winter. Further to the south were the ranch
buildings, corrals, the cook house and a log cabin, outside of which
hung any number of bridles and saddles, some of which the ranchers were
mending and polishing when Stalling's men arrived on the scene.

Big-foot introduced himself and was received with many a shout and
handshake. Bill Blake, the foreman of the ranch after greeting the new
arrival, turned inquiringly to Tad Butler, who had dismounted.

"I didn't know you used kids in your business, Big-foot," he grinned.

Big-foot flushed under the imputation.

"Mebby you call him a kid, but if you'd see the lad work you'd change
your mind mighty quick," answered the big cowman, with a trace of
irritation in his voice. He explained to Blake what the boy was doing
with the outfit, at the same time relating some of the things that the
slender, freckle-faced boy from the East had accomplished.

"Shake, Pinto," exclaimed Bill Blake cordially. "I reckon Mr. McClure
would like to talk with you. Big-foot and I have got some business over
in the ranch house, you see," smiled the foreman.

"I see," replied Tad, though not wholly sure whether he did or not.

"He's over there talking with his boss wrangler now. Come along and I'll
give you a first-class knock-dow