A ROUND-UP.
Day by day the herds swelled, and at the end of two months they began
to move in the direction of the general rendezvous. Hugh had soon
taken his share in the night-guarding of the cattle, and found it
fascinating work. He and Broncho Harry generally worked together. The
first watch was preferred, because this allowed a fair night's rest to
be taken afterwards; but at the same time the work was far harder and
more arduous than in the later watches. The cattle were still on their
feet when the watch began, and on reaching them the two guards began to
ride round and round them, going in opposite directions. For a time the
cattle would go on feeding, then gradually they would lie down, until
perhaps all but five or six were on the ground. At this time, however,
the slightest noise would bring them on to their feet again, and then
groups would try to leave the mass to begin to feed again, and the
cow-boys had to drive them in.
Upon a dark night they depended more upon their horses' sight than
their own, for these would of their own accord leave the close-packed
circle and strike out to turn back any animals that had wandered from
it. At last, after an hour or two, the herd would all subside, and the
cow-boys would flatter themselves that their work was done. Then one of
the cattle lying outside would leap to his feet with a snort, alarmed,
perhaps, by the sudden scamper of an inquisitive jack-rabbit, which,
having come up to examine what was going on, had fled at the approach
of one of the cow-boys. With a loud snort the whole herd would then
spring to their feet. Perhaps after a time the herd would lie down
again, reassured by the song of the cow-boys, who from the time they
came on duty always continued to sing, unless they played on a fife or
some other musical instrument, which answered as well as the voice.
At other times a sort of general agitation communicated itself to the
herd. Those on the outside finding themselves unable to leave the mass
owing to the vigilance of their guard, would begin to move along its
edge; the motion would spread, and in a short time the whole mass be
circling, or, as the cow-boys call it, weaving. As this action, unless
checked, always terminated in a general stampede, the duty of the
cow-boys was at once to check it. This could only be done by wedging
themselves into the mass, shouting and using their heavy whips to break
it up and put a stop to the motion. This was dangerous work, not only
from the pressure, but from the sea of horns and angry tossing heads.
Sometimes it would be successful, sometimes it would fail. Above the
lowing and bellowing there would be a thunder of hoofs on the side
opposite to that on which they were engaged. Then would rise a shout
of "They are off!" and the cow-boys would edge their horses out of the
mass, and, one on each flank, gallop at the top of their speed to head
the animals back. As soon as they came near the head of the herd they
would yell and shout at the top of their voices, sometimes discharging
their pistols in the air, pressing the animals on the flank gradually
inward, and so checking the speed of the whole until they at last met
in front of the herd. Sometimes they would succeed before two or three
miles of ground were passed over; sometimes the wild flight of the herd
could not be checked before morning, when they would be thirty or forty
miles away from their starting-place.
If unable to stop them, the great aim of the cow-boys was to keep them
in one body: in that case no great trouble resulted from the stampede.
The other men would be out in the morning and the herd would be driven
back to its starting-place. But if the herd broke up, as was sometimes
the case, and scattered over the country, it might take many days of
hard work before they could again be got together. If the night set
in wild, so as to render it probable that the cattle would stampede, a
third man was placed on the guard. He would aid in keeping them in as
long as possible; but if they broke the circle and went off, his duty
was to gallop back to camp. The cow-boys there would leap to their feet
in an instant, run to the horses picketed near, saddled and bridled
ready for instant use, throw themselves on their backs, and gallop off
at the top of their speed in the direction in which the herd had gone.
Thunder-storms were of not infrequent occurrence, and when the clouds
were seen banking up before sunset, and the lightning began to play,
the cattle-guard knew that they were in for a troubled night. Long
before the storm approached close enough to cause actual alarm among
the cattle they would evince signs of uneasiness, the electrical
condition of the air seeming to affect them. They might lie down, but
it was only to rise again, and the distant roll of the thunder seemed
to be answered by their restless bellowing. On such a night it needed
no message to the camp to bring up help. As the storm approached, and
it became evident by the brightness and rapidity of the flashes that it
was going to be an unusually severe one, one by one the men would leave
their fire or rise from their couches and go out to their horses, pull
up and coil their ropes, leap into the saddle, wrap a blanket round
them, and gallop off to the herd, beginning always to sing as they
approached it, as otherwise their arrival might stampede the animals.
When the storm came overhead the terror of the cattle rose to the
highest point, and the efforts of the whole of the cow-boys of the
outfit scarcely sufficed to restrain them. The almost incessant
flashes of lightning showed a sea of heads and horns, wild eyes, and
distended nostrils. The thunder was continuous, and so terrible were
some of these storms that Hugh felt grateful to the animals that the
trouble they gave, and the incessant efforts and activity required to
restrain them, diverted his attention from the terrible war of elements
overhead. On such a night it was almost certain that sooner or later
the herd would stampede, and once off, the efforts of their guard were
directed to keep them together rather than to head them. So long as
they remained in a bunch it mattered little whether they were one mile
or thirty from the camp.
If headed and held up they would probably start again, and it was less
anxious work to gallop by the side of the frightened mass than to hold
them in check when once their excitement reached its height. In some
respects the ride in such a storm as this was less dangerous than
upon a dark, still night, for the lightning flashes showed not only
the exact position of the herd, but greatly diminished the chance of
serious falls by lighting up the whole configuration of the country,
and showing any obstacles in the way. Even a fall, heavy though it
might be, would be a trifle in comparison to one occurring while
endeavouring to head the herd, for in that case it would entail certain
death, as life would be trampled out in an instant by the onward
torrent of cattle.
Hugh had by this time come to understand that even twelve horses
were by no means too much for the use of each man. Wiry and tough as
were the ponies, the men who rode them seemed to be iron. Hugh was
frequently in his saddle eighteen hours a day, occasionally twenty,
and four or even five horses would be thoroughly done up before his
work was over. Had they been fed with grain a smaller number might have
sufficed, for unless unusually pressed they could have been ridden
again on the following day; but fed entirely upon the dry grasses of
the plains they needed a day's rest before they were again fit for
work.
The herd increased by another thousand before it reached the general
rendezvous of the round-up, for each day six of the men scoured the
country lying within ten or fifteen miles of the line of march, and
drove in all the cattle met with on their way. At last they reached
the stream near whose banks the vast herds driven in from all quarters
were gathered. There had been an occasional day's halt on the way to
give a needed rest to cattle, horses, and men; but now that the outfit
had arrived at the spot indicated before they had left the headquarters
station, there was a rest for four days before operations commenced.
The time was employed by the men in washing, overhauling, and mending
their clothes, repairing their saddles, and in sleep. They knew nothing
of the position of the other outfits of their own and of the other
ranches, but were sure that they all lay within a radius of some twenty
or thirty miles--that is to say, all that had as yet arrived. Some had
probably come up days before, perhaps weeks; others would not be there
for some time; all depended upon the nature of the country to be worked
and the distance traversed. There were several other outfits scattered
along the banks of the stream above and below them at distances of
about half a mile apart, and the overseers of the different ranches
were busy making arrangements for the general campaign. Four days after
their arrival a cow-boy rode in with a letter to the overseer of the
outfit. A few minutes later Broncho Harry and four other hands, among
whom were Hugh and Bill Royce, were ordered to saddle up and to go down
to the central station.
The term order is scarcely a correct one, for cow-boys are not men to
be ordered. A cow-boy is asked to do a thing, and asked in civil terms.
The request has all the force of an order, but it is not so conveyed.
It is put in the form, "I want you to do so and so;" or, "Will you
saddle up and do so and so?" It is just as easy to put it in that form
as in any other, and though the cow-boy knows that if he does not
comply with the request he has got to ride back to the headquarters
station and get his money, he does not feel his dignity injured as
it would be by a direct order. There are no men more independent than
cow-boys. They know their value; and a really good man knows, and this
was more especially the case at that time, that he has but to ride to
the next ranche to get employment. The consequence is that although
willing to work to the utmost of his powers in the interest of his
employers he by no means regards that employer as a master, but treats
even the chief manager on terms of absolute equality, and insists upon
being so treated by him in return.
"Broncho Harry," the overseer said, "I want you, Jack Johnson, Bowie
Bob, Chunky Royce, and Lightning Hugh to saddle up and ride down to the
forks and help in the round-up. The waggon is going to stay here till
our herd is called up. There are men from the other outfits there; the
boss is there, and he will settle about things. Two of the waggons are
there, so you will be all right as to grub. I expect you will be there
about a fortnight, and then the others will come down and take your
place."
"Are we to take down our other horses?" the cow-boy asked.
"No. No. 1 outfit will take charge of the cattle as they are cut out
and branded. No. 3 will take the next mob. Anyhow, you won't want
horses except to take you down there."
"All right!" Harry said, and proceeded to call the other four together.
In a few minutes the horses were brought in and saddled, the blankets
rolled up and strapped to the saddles, and the five men chosen, after
eating a hasty meal, started for the point named, which was some
twenty-five miles distant.
"Now you are going to see some fun, Hugh," Bill Royce, who had got the
nickname of Chunky from his short, square figure, remarked as they rode
along.
"Yes," Broncho Harry put in, "you will have to look out sharp, Hugh. I
tell you it is pretty lively work when you get hold of a six months'
calf, and the old savage of a mother is trying her best to hook you.
Thar ain't a day that some fellow don't get hurt; but as long as you
don't let a cow jam you against the posts it don't much matter. That
is what you have got to look to special. A chuck in the air don't much
matter, nor being knocked a dozen yards or so, but if you get jammed by
one of those brutes against a fence, there ain't nothing to do but to
bury you."
Three hours' riding brought them to the forks. Two or three large
herds of cattle could be made out far on the plains: another mob could
be seen not far from the wooded hollow that marked the course of the
stream. Horsemen were hovering round them, and there was a confused
mass of animals in what looked to Hugh like a strong stockade near it.
A short distance away twelve waggons were drawn up in regular order
some fifty yards apart. Columns of light smoke rising near them showed
that cooking was going on at each waggon. Quickening the speed of their
horses the cow-boys rode on until they drew up at the waggon of the
[brand circle triangle] ranche.
"Howdy, Pete," Broncho Harry said as he leapt from his horse, to a
negro who, with a Mexican assistant, was engaged in cooking.
"Howdy, Broncho Harry."
"Where are the boys, and what's new?"
"Dey is out dar," the negro said, waving his hand in the direction of
the corral. "Some of dem is working in de herd; some of dem is inside.
Irish is in de waggon: him leg broken. New York John got killed three
days back."
"That's bad, Pete. How did he manage that?"
"Old cow hooked him--ran horn right through him body. Irish got tossed
against posts."
"I suppose there are boys down from the other outfits here, Pete?"
"Yes. Five No. 3, five No. 4. No. 4 came in dis mornin'. Now you come
dat make fifteen, and all our own outfit; dat too much for Pete to cook
for."
"Well, you have got someone to help you, Pete, so you ought not to
grumble."
Pete made a grimace as much as to signify that he did not consider the
assistance of the Mexican to be of much account. Between the men of
these two races there was a general feud, while the cow-boys looked
down upon both, and as a rule refused to allow them to work with them
except in the capacity of cook.
"Where are our horses, Pete?"
"No. 1 horses over dere," the negro said, pointing to a group of horses
out on the plain. "Young Nat looking arter dem."
"Well, we may as well take our horses out there, boys," Broncho Harry
said, turning to the others. "It is no use picketing them here; we
ain't likely to want them."
"I will ride them out," Hugh volunteered. The others removed their
saddles and bridles, and Hugh drove them out to the group on the plain.
"Well, Nat, how are you getting on?" he asked a boy of about fifteen
years old who was lying on the ground with his horse's rein over his
arm near them.
"Oh, I'm all right," the boy replied; "been here a week, and getting
pretty tired of this job, you bet, with nothing to do but just to lie
here. Blast all camps, I say!"
"You ought to be at school, you young imp," Hugh laughed.
"I would just as soon be doing that as lying here," the boy said. "It
will be all right when I get to be a cow-boy, but there ain't much fun
about this. Just come in?"
"Yes."
"Who is with you?"
Hugh gave the names.
"Broncho Harry ain't a bad sort," the boy said. "The others ain't of
much account."
"You had better tell them so," Hugh said with a smile.
"I would tell them if I thought fit," the boy said angrily. "You don't
suppose that I'm afraid of any of that mob?"
"I know you are a very bad man, Nat," Hugh said with assumed gravity,
"a very dangerous character in a camp; but I hope you won't do any of
them any harm."
"I sha'n't do them no harm if they don't do me any," the boy said, "but
I don't take no sauce from no one."
By this time Hugh had unsaddled Prince, and placing the saddle over
his head and carrying the bridle in his hand, nodded to the boy, and
started back to the camp, while Prince joined the four horses, which
began to graze at a little distance from the rest. Presently two or
three of the other horses came over to the new-comers, and after
a little snorting apparently recognized them as friends with whom
they had been acquainted at the head-station, and this fact being
established Prince and his companions were allowed to join them.
There were many boys like Nat out on the plains, for the most part
lads who had run away from home, and who were now training up to be
cow-boys, being engaged in day-herding the horses--work that demanded
but little skill or attention. They were generally regarded with favour
by the outfits to which they were attached, for the cow-boys as a rule
are silent men, and the liveliness of the boys amused them. These boys
generally grew up into the most reckless and dare-devil of cow-boys,
speedily picking up the worst language and imitating the wildest
follies of their companions, and they would have been an unmitigated
nuisance in the camps had they not been frequently sternly called to
order by men with whom they knew there was no trifling.
It was not until nightfall that the work ceased and the cow-boys
returned to their waggons. They had been working without a break since
daylight, contenting themselves with eating a piece of bread and cold
meat standing at their work in the middle of the day.
"Well, boys, come in for a spell?" one of them asked as they came up to
the fire where the new arrivals were seated. "We have had a week of it,
and it has been a pretty tough job. The cattle are wonderful wild. I
suppose the thunder has scared them, and we are pretty sure the Injuns
have been chasing them lately by the foot-hills. Did you see anything
of the Reds?"
"No; there were no signs of them in the part we searched."
"There were signs further south," the other went on. "We came on two
places where they had slaughtered a lot of cattle, and we hear they
have been making raids down into Mexico, and the troops have been out
after them down by the frontier line. Anyhow, the cattle are wilder
than usual. You have heard, I suppose, that New York John has been
rubbed out?"
"Yes, we heard that, and I have been talking to Irish. He seems getting
on all right."
"Irish is a blamed fool. I told him over and over again he would get
into trouble if he didn't mind; but nothing could persuade him that
there was any difference between the ways of a Kerry cow and a Texas
steer, and of course he came to grief. I should have thought that New
York John would have known better than to get himself hooked like that;
but it were not altogether his fault. He wur holding a calf, and he had
his eye on the old cow, who had got her dander up pretty considerable.
One of the men had roped her, and New York John naturally thought that
she was safe. So he downed the calf, and the brand was clapped to it,
and the young un bawls out, and of course the cow made a fresh rush to
get at it, and the rope breaks, and she was on New York John afore he
could look round."
"But how came the rope to break? A man must be a fool and worse to come
down to round-up with a rotten old rope."
"Well, the rope was a new un. You may guess there was a lot of talk
over it, and it put our backs up a bit that New York John should get
killed that way. The rope wur a new one, there warn't no doubt about
that, but it had been cut half through. Who had done it, in course,
no one knew. The men were mad over it, and ef they could have found
out who had done it he would have swung from the limb of a tree in a
squirrel's jump. There were two or three men who had had musses with
the chap as the rope belonged to, but no one could say as any of them
had cut his rope. Of course it might have been an accident, but no
one thought that very likely. However, there it wur. Somebody cut the
fellow's rope to spite him, and it cost New York John his life, which
was pretty rough on him."
"What is the work for to-morrow?"
"Well, your lot and the men of the other two outfits are to be in the
yard. We have got a spell off, except, of course, that we have got to
look after our own bunch of cattle."
"How many are there of them?"
"About 6000 I should say. I expect some of us will start driving them
up north day after to-morrow."
The next morning Hugh went down to the cattle-yard as soon as they
had finished breakfast. Day had just broken, and while they were
waiting for the herd to be brought up he looked round at the yard.
The paling was composed of very strong posts six feet high, placed
at intervals of two or three inches apart. It had been built three or
four years before, as this place was the most convenient and central
upon the plains. A few waggon loads of timber had been taken out there
a fortnight before the arrival of the teams, with a gang of men, who
took up any posts that showed signs of rottenness and replaced them
by others, the various ranches in the round-up performing this duty by
turns. The fence inclosed a space of upwards of an acre.
Beside the contingent from the [brand circle triangle] ranche some
forty or fifty cow-boys from the other ranches were gathered within it.
Several fires were lighted for heating the brands, and the overseer who
was in charge of the work for the day divided the men into parties,
each group consisting of representatives of four or five different
ranches. In a short time a great herd was seen approaching, driven in
by a number of mounted cow-boys. The cross-bars were removed from the
opening that served as a gate at the upper end of the yard, and the
reluctant animals, unable to withstand the pressure of those behind,
poured in. Several hundreds entered; the bars were dropped again, and
the animals inclosed stood in a dense group, stamping the ground, and
threatening an attack as the cow-boys approached them.
[Illustration: BRANDING THE CALVES AT THE "ROUND UP."]
These all carried their ropes, some holding them in their hands ready
for throwing, while others had them coiled over their left shoulder,
while in their right hands they held their heavy whips. Those who
were to fetch out the calves first approached. Half a dozen ropes were
thrown, and the calves were dragged out, struggling and calling, or, as
the cow-boys called it, bawling, to their mothers for assistance. The
call was not in vain. The cows rushed out furiously to the assistance
of their calves. As each did so the cow-boy whose comrade was dragging
the calf towards one of the fires shouted out the brand on the cow, and
then, cracking their whips, and if necessary using them, they drove the
animal back into the mass and kept her there, while the calf was thrown
down and branded with the same mark as its mother.
Hugh was among those told off to fetch out the calves. He had had some
practice, as many of the mavericks found had calves by their side,
and these as well as the cows had been branded with the [brand circle
triangle]. Another cow-boy assisted him to haul the calf by main force
towards the fire, and held the rope while Hugh ran up to it. Placing
himself beside it he leaned over it, grasped it by the flank with both
hands, and then lifted it and flung it down on its side. His comrade
then ran up and pinned its head to the ground, while Hugh knelt on its
haunches, and the brander came up with a hot iron and marked it. The
iron was held on long enough only to burn off the hair and slightly
singe the hide, and the mark so made was almost indelible.
In addition to this the calf's ears were cut, each ranche having its
particular mark, such as two long slits and a short one, a square piece
cut out and a notch on either side of it, a semicircular piece and two
notches, a semicircle and a square, &c. These marks were very durable,
but even these often became confused owing to the ears getting torn
by a rush through thorns, or by the action of a neighbour's horn in a
close press or during a stampede. It required but small exercise of
strength to throw a calf of three months old; but many of them were
eight or nine months and nearly full grown, and it needed a great
exertion of strength and a good deal of knack to throw down animals
of this size. Once or twice Hugh had narrow escapes, for some of the
cows, in spite of the cow-boys' whips, burst through them and rushed to
the assistance of their calves; but each time the ropes descended over
their heads or caught them by their legs, and threw them to the ground
before they reached him.
After an hour of this work he was relieved by one of the other men,
and took his turn of the lighter work of keeping back the cows. When
every calf in the yard had been branded the gate at the lower end was
opened and the animals driven out, while a fresh mob was admitted from
the herd. So the work went on until the herd had all passed through
the yard, and the calves been branded. Then there was a quarter of an
hour's rest while another herd was driven up, and the work recommenced.
By nightfall some nine thousand animals had passed through the yard,
and nearly four thousand calves had been branded. Begrimed with sweat
and dust, the cow-boys went down to the stream, where most of them
bathed and all had a thorough wash, and then went up to their waggons
to supper.
"How do you feel now?" Broncho Harry asked Hugh when he threw himself
down by the fire.
"I feel broken up altogether, Harry. My back and loins feel as if I
had been beaten to a pulp. I believe I have strained every muscle of
my arms, and my hands and wrists are so stiff that I can't close my
fingers."
"Yes; calf-chucking is pretty hard work until you get accustomed to
it," the cow-boy said. "It is knack more than strength, though it needs
a lot of strength too when you have got a rampagious ten-months calf in
your hands."
"I have not got the knack yet," Hugh said; "and anything over six
months I had to have roped by the legs and thrown, but I suppose I
shall be able to tackle them in time."
In the case of the cows that had been branded only a year or two before
there was no difficulty in recognizing the brand, and so to decide upon
the ownership of the calf; but in the case of older cows the brand and
ear-marks had in some instances both become so far obliterated that
it was difficult to decide what they had originally been. Over these
brands there were sharp and sometimes angry disputes among the cow-boys
belonging to the different ranches. The case was generally settled
by the overseer in charge of the day's operations calling upon three
cow-boys belonging to ranches unconnected with the dispute to give
their opinion as to what the marks had originally been. Their decision
was accepted by all parties as final, and the cow rebranded as well as
the calf.
"What do you do when the brand is so far gone as to make it altogether
impossible to say what it was?" Hugh asked.
"It would not get here at all in that state," the cow-boy replied. "It
would have been rebranded at once by the outfit that first found it
just as if it had been a maverick. But in that case, of course, any
cow-boy could claim the cow as belonging to his ranche if he could
convince the others that the old brand was the one used by it. They
never brand over the old mark; that must be left as an evidence."
The next day happened to be Sunday, and Hugh felt glad indeed that he
had a day on which to recover from his stiffness. Sundays were always
kept, except in cases of great emergency, as a day of rest, cow-boys
taking the opportunity to wash and mend their clothes, to practise
shooting with their revolvers, or to run races with their horses. At
rounds-up these races afford one of the chief interests to the cow-boy,
for rivalry between the various ranches runs high, and the men are
ready to bet their "bottom dollar" upon the representative of their own
ranche.
"Have you ever tried that horse of yours against anything fast, Hugh?"
one of his comrades asked.
"No. I am sure he is very fast, but I have never really tried him."
"We were fools not to think of that before," Broncho Harry put in.
"We ought to have raced him against some of the others, and have found
out what he can do, and then we might have made a soft thing of it. I
suppose you wouldn't mind trying him, Hugh?"
"Not at all. But if he is to race you had better ride him instead of
me. I shouldn't say you were much above nine stone and a half."
"I don't know what you mean by your stone," Harry said. "We don't
reckon that way out here. I was a hundred and thirty-five pounds last
time I weighed at the head-station."
"That is two pounds more than I said. Well, I am certainly twenty
pounds heavier--I should say twenty-five, and that makes a lot of
difference."
"I should think so. Still we had best have a trial, Hugh, before we
try to make a match. That is a good horse of yours. I mean the one you
first mounted and who played such tricks with you. I should like some
day to try him against my best, and see how they go. I daresay you will
get him again before the round-up is over."
"What length do you run your races here, Broncho?"
"In general they are short dashes, not above half a mile at the
outside, but sometimes a match is made for some distance. Well, when
we have had dinner we will trot out into the plain. We must go off a
goodish bit, and make sure that none of the boys of the other ranches
are within sight."
Accordingly, when dinner was over, Broncho Harry and Hugh went out
to the horses. Prince come trotting out as soon as he heard Hugh's
whistle, and Broncho Harry soon dropped his noose over the neck of his
own horse. They then put on the saddles and bridles which they had
brought with them, and went off at a canter across the plains. They
ran three or four trials. The result showed that Broncho's horse was
quicker in getting off, and that in a quarter of a mile dash there was
little to choose between them, but at longer distances than this Prince
was, in spite of the greater weight he carried, much the faster.
"That horse can go," the cow-boy said admiringly. "I shouldn't mind if
there were a pack of Redskins coming behind me if I was on his back.
The worst of him is he is so good-looking. If he was ugly to look at we
might clean out all the camps, but he looks so good that I am afraid we
sha'n't be able to get much money out of him. Well, now, we won't race
him this evening. There are sure to be some matches on, and I will ride
my horse. That way I shall find what there is in the camp, and whether
there is anything that can beat him as much as your horse can do. Don't
you go cavorting about on him; just let him run with the rest of the
mob. Then he won't be noticed. There is too much to be got through in
this camp for men to take stock of the horses. Then if we keep him dark
we can get someone to set up his horse against the best of ours. We
will put the boys up to it when we get back, or someone may be blowing
about your horse."
There were, as the cow-boy anticipated, a number of races run that
evening. Broncho Harry beat two other horses, but lost his winnings and
more in the third race, when he was beaten somewhat easily by an animal
which in point of looks was greatly the inferior of his own.
"That is just what I told you, Hugh," he said, when, after unsaddling
his horse and sending it off to join its companions on the plains, he
returned to the waggon. "I am a blessed fool, for I ought to have known
that when that cross T's man offered to back that ugly-looking brute
against mine, he wur a sight better than he looked. He just shot off
like an arrow at starting. I didn't loose anything afterwards, but I
couldn't pick up them three lengths he got in the first forty yards. If
we make a match against him we must see that it ain't less than half a
mile."
The next morning the work in the stock-yards was resumed and continued
throughout the week.
[Illustration]