punchers tote a .45. So far as I can see there seems to be no use for it."
"You might think so," returned his uncle, "but it is one of the most useful aids we have on the ranch. We use it in many ways in this country. You never can tell when some danger, which has to be met with force, will sweep down on you, so one always ought to be ready."
About two weeks after this conversation Larry was riding with his uncle on the ranch when he had a very forcible demonstration of what his uncle had told him about the .45.
They had ridden clear across the big plateau to the foothillsf to the east when they came upon Big Bill who was out with three or four other cow-punchers inspecting the fences.
"There's a steer over here in the draw," said Bill, "which acts mighty ugly. I can't make out what is the matter with him. He seems so full of cussedness that I don't dare go very near him."
"All right," said Mr. Brodie, "let's go over and take a look at him." So he and Bill galloped away, closely followed by Larry. They soon located the steer which was a large vicious-looking animal with longer horns than most of the Crooked Creek stock.
"Looks as though he had some of the old Long Horn about him," said Bill. "He is full of gunpowder."
