e cows and calves had been cut
into a separate herd, the other cattle were turned loose. Then with
great shoutings the cows were started up the river to a branding-pen
several miles distant. Never during his life did the line-back calf
forget that day. There was such a rush and hurrah among these horsemen
that long before they reached the corrals the line-back's tongue
lolled out, for he was now a very fat calf. Only once did he even
catch sight of his speckled playmate, who was likewise trembling like
a fawn.

Inside the corral he rested for a short time in the shade of the
palisades. His mother, however, scented with alarm a fire which was
being built in the middle of the branding-pen. Several men, who seemed
to be the owners, rode through the corralled cows while the cruel
irons were being heated. Then the man who directed the work ordered
into their saddles a number of swarthy fellows who spoke Spanish, and
the work of branding commenced.

The line-back calf kept close to his mother's side, and as long as
possible avoided the ropers. But in an unguarded moment the noose of a
rope encircled one of his hind feet, and he was thrown upon his side,
and in this position the mounted man dragged him up to the fire. His
mother followed him closely, but she was afraid of the men, and could
only stand at a distance and listen to his piteous crying. The roper,
when asked for the brand, replied, "Bar-circle-bar," for that was the
brand his mother bore. A tall quiet man who did the branding called
to a boy who attended the fire to bring him two irons; with one he
stamped the circle, and with the other he made a short horizontal bar
on either side of it. Then he took a bloody knife from between his
teeth and cut an under-bit from the calf's right ear, inquiring of the
owner as he did so, "Do you want this calf left for a bull?"

"No; yearlings will be worth fourteen dollars next spring. He's a
first calf--his mother's only a three-year-old."

As he was released he edged away from the fire, forlorn looking. His
mother coaxed him over into a corner of the corral, where he dropped
exhausted, for with his bleeding ear, his seared side, and a hundred
shooting pains in his loins, he felt as if he must surely die. His
dam, however, stood over him until the day's work was ended, and kept
the other cows from trampling him. When the gates were thrown open and
they were given their freedom, he cared nothing for it; he wanted to
die. He