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He saddled Teddy and rode back. The drive for the day was already

on, but he fell in beside young France and did his part. Before

two days had passed he was accepted as one of these hard-riding

punchers, for he was a competent vaquero and stood the grueling

work as one born to it. He was, moreover, well liked, both

because he could tell a good story and because these sons of Anak

recognized in him that dynamic quality of manhood they could not

choose but respect. In this a fortunate accident aided him.

They were working Lost Creek, a deep and rapid stream at the

point where the drive ended. The big Norwegian, Siegfried, trying

to head off a wild cow racing along the bank with tail up, got

too near the edge. The bank caved beneath the feet of his pony,

and man and horse went head first into the turbid waters. Fraser

galloped up at once, flung himself from his saddle, and took in

at a glance the fact that the big blond Hercules could not swim.