CHAPTER IX.
THE TAILHOLT MOUNTAIN OUTFIT.
Phil and Patches were riding that day in the country about Old Camp.
Early in the afternoon, they heard the persistent bawling of a calf, and upon riding toward the sound, found the animal deep in the cedar timber, which in that section thickly covers the ridges.

The calf was freshly branded with the Tailholt iron.

It was done, Phil said, the day before, probably in the late afternoon.

The youngster was calling for his mother.
"It's strange, she is not around somewhere," said Patches.
"It would be more strange if she was," retorted the cowboy shortly, and he looked from the calf to the distant Tailholt Mountain, as though he were considering some problem which he did not, for some reason, care to share with his companion.
"There's not much use to look for her," he added, with grim disappointment.

"That's always the way.