riven to the water. It moved thither in a restless, thirsty
mass; it churned the shallow pond to milk, and from a high knoll, where
Alaire had taken her stand, she looked down upon a vast undulating
carpet many acres in extent formed by the backs of living creatures.
The voice of these cattle was like the bass rumble of the sea, steady,
heavy-droning, ceaseless.

Then through the cool twilight came the drive to the next pasture, and
here the patience of the cowboys was taxed to the utmost, for as the
stronger members of the herd forged ahead, the wearied, worried,
littlest members fell behind. Their joints were limber, and their legs
unsteady; one and all were orphaned, too, for in that babel of sound no
untrained ears could catch a mother's low. A mile of this and the whole
rear guard was composed of plaintive, wet-eyed little calves who made
slower and slower progress. Some of them were stubborn and risked all
upon a spirited dash back toward the homes they were leaving and toward
the mothers who would not answer. It took hard, sharp riding to run
them down, for they fled like rabbits, bolting through prickly-pear and
scrub, their tails bravely aloft, their stiff legs flying. Others, too
tired and thirsty to go farther, lay down and refused to budge, and
these had to be carried over the saddlehorn until they had rested. Some
hid themselves cunningly in the mesquite clumps or burrowed into the
coarse sagauista grass.

But now those swarthy, dare-devil riders were as gentle as women; they
urged the tiny youngsters onward with harmless switches or with
painless blows from loose-coiled riatas; they picked them up in their
arms and rode with them.

Once through the gate and safe inside the restraining pasture fence,
the herd was allowed to settle down. Then began a patient search by
outraged mothers, a series of mournful quests that were destined to
continue far into the night; endless nosings and sniffings and
caressings, which would keep up until each cow had found her own, until
each calf was butting its head against maternal ribs and gaining that
consolation which it craved.

A new moon was swinging in the sky as Alaire and Dave rode back toward
Las Palmas. The dry, gray grass was beginning to jewel with dew; the
paths were ribbons of silver between dark blots of ink where the bushes
grew. Behind rose the jingle of spurs and bridles, the creak of
leather, the voices of men. It was an hour in which to talk freely, a