Braden was known to Angus by sight and by reputation. He lived in
Mowbray, the nearest town, which was some sixteen miles from the ranch,
where he was the big frog in its little puddle. He had a good many irons
in the fire. He ran a sort of private banking-loan-insurance business,
dealt in real estate, owned an interest in a store, dabbled in local
politics and was prominent in church matters. He was considered a very
able and trustworthy man. But young Angus, though he had very misty
notions of the functions of an executor, had a very clear and definite
conviction that it was up to him to run the ranch and look after his
sister and brother. That was his personal job. And so he took stock of
the situation.

Adam Mackay had owned in all a block of nearly two thousand acres. Of
this about three hundred was cultivated or in pasture. The whole block
was good, very level, with ample water for irrigation. On the range was
nearly a hundred head of cattle. There were horses in plenty--a couple
of work team, a team of drivers, and each young Mackay had a saddle
pony. The buildings were good, and the wagons, sleighs, tools and
machinery in excellent condition. The ranch was a going concern,
apparently in good shape. None the less it was a hard proposition for a
youngster to handle. It was like putting a cabin boy on the bridge to
navigate the ship.

Having been brought up on a ranch, he knew quite well how most work
should be done, and he had acquired by absorption rather than by
conscious thought a good deal of theory. But Adam Mackay had himself
done rather more than half the work. He had had but one steady hired
man, Gus Gustafson, a huge Scandinavian who was a splendid worker when
told what to do, but who had no head whatever. As Angus could not do the
work his father had done he had to obtain additional help, and so he
made a proposition to Dave Rennie.

Rennie was not much of a farmer, but he came to the ranch temporarily at
first out of his friendship for Angus, and remained.

On a certain Saturday afternoon Angus and Dave Rennie, engaged in
hanging a new gate, saw a two-seated rig with three men approaching.
Rennie peered at them.

"There's Braden," he said. "I heard he'd got back."

"And that's Nick Garland driving," Angus observed. "Who's the other
fellow?"

"Stranger to me. Garland, huh! I never had much use for that sport."

Garland was a young man whose business, so far as he had any, was
dealing in cattl