and an assistant clapped the irons to their bony hips. The smell
of singed hair was rather unpleasant, and the bawling of the excited
cattle drowned all conversation.

When a calf or a yearling was let loose, he ran as hard as he could for
a while, with the smoking "monogram," as Sue Latrop called it, the
object of his tenderest attention. But the smart of it did not last for
long, and the branded stock soon went to graze contentedly outside the
corral fence, forgetting the experience.

Frances had a chance to speak to Sam for a moment.

"Ratty will come to you for his time. I'm going to pay him off this
noon. I've got good reason for letting him go."

"I bet ye," agreed Sam, for whatever Frances said or did was right with
him.

Pratt insisted upon Frances meeting all these people from Amarillo.
There was Mrs. Bill Edwards, whom she already knew, as chaperon. Most of
the others were young people, although nearer Pratt's age than that of
the ranchman's daughter.

Sue Latrop was the only one from the East. She had been to Amarillo
before, and she evidently had much influence over her girl friends from
that Panhandle city, if over nobody else. Two of the girls had copied
her riding habit exactly; and if imitation is the sincerest flattery,
then Sue was flattered indeed.

The Boston girl undoubtedly rode well. She had had schooling in the art
of sticking to a side-saddle like a fly on a wall!

Her horse curvetted, arched his neck, played pretty tricks at command,
and was long-legged enough to carry her swiftly over the ground if she
so desired. He made the scrubby, nervous little cow-ponies--including
Molly--look very shabby indeed.

Sue Latrop apparently believed she was ever so much better mounted than
the other girls, for she was the only one who had brought her own horse.
The others, including Pratt, were mounted on Bill Edwards' ponies.

While they were standing in a group and talking, there came a yell from
the branding pen. A section of rail fence went down with a crash.
Through the fence came a little black steer that had escaped several
"branding soirees."

Blackwater, as the Bar-T boys called him, was a notorious rebel. He was
originally a maverick--a stray from some passing herd--and had joined
the Bar-T cattle unasked. That was more than two years before. He had
remained on the Bar-T ranges, but was evidently determined in his dogged
mind not to submit to the humiliation of the branding-iron.

He