with the Circle-Bar, the Flying U, and a Yellowstone
outfit whose wagon-boss, knowing best the range, was captain of the five
crews; and drove north, gathering and holding all stock which properly
ranged beyond the Missouri.

That meant day after day of "riding circle"--which is, being
interpreted, riding out ten or twelve miles from camp, then turning and
driving everything before them to a point near the center of the circle
thus formed. When they met the cattle were bunched, and all stock which
belonged on that range was cut out, leaving only those which had crossed
the river during the storms of winter. These were driven on to the
next camping place and held, which meant constant day-herding and
night-guarding work which cowboys hate more than anything else.

There would be no calf roundup proper that spring, for all calves were
branded as they were gathered. Many there were among the she-stock that
would not cross the river again; their carcasses made unsightly blots in
the coulee-bottoms and on the wind-swept levels. Of the calves that had
followed their mothers on the long trail, hundreds had dropped out of
the march and been left behind for the wolves. But not all. Range-bred
cattle are blessed with rugged constitutions and can bear much of cold
and hunger. The cow that can turn tail to a biting wind the while she
ploughs to the eyes in snow and roots out a very satisfactory living
for herself breeds calves that will in time do likewise and grow fat and
strong in the doing. He is a sturdy, self-reliant little rascal, is the
range-bred calf.

When fifteen hundred head of mixed stock, bearing Northern brands, were
in the hands of the day-herders, Park and his crew were detailed to take
them on and turn them loose upon their own range north of Milk River.
Thurston felt that he had gleaned about all the experience he needed,
and more than enough hard riding and short sleeping and hurried eating.
He announced that he was ready to bid good-by to the range. He would
help take the herd home, he told Park, and then he intended to hit the
trail for little, old New York.

He still agreed with the meadow larks that the world was good, but he
had made himself believe that he really thought the civilized portion
of it was better, especially when the uncivilized part holds a girl who
persists in saying no when she should undoubtedly say yes, and insists
that a man must be a hero, else she will have none of him.

CHAPT