k to follow up, the camp
was abandoned with the exception of the remuda. It was barely sun-up
when we counted and took possession of the beeves. On being relieved,
the foreman of Los Lobos took the ranch outfit and started off to renew
the gathering. We penned the cattle without any trouble, and as soon as
the irons were ready, a chuteful were run in and the branding commenced.
This branding-chute was long enough to chamber eight beeves. It was
built about a foot wide at the bottom and flared upward just enough
to prevent an animal from turning round. A heavy gate closed the exit,
while bull-bars at the rear prevented the occupant from backing out. A
high platform ran along either side of the branding-chute, on which the
men stood while handling the irons.

Two men did the branding. "Runt" Pickett attended the fire, passing up
the heated irons, and dodging the cold branding-steel. A single iron
was often good for several animals, and sometimes a chuteful was branded
with two irons. It was necessary that the work should be well done; not
that a five months' trip required it, but the unforeseen must be guarded
against. Many trail herds had met disaster and been scattered to the
four winds with nothing but a road brand to identify them afterward.
The cattle were changing owners, and custom decreed that an abstract of
title should be indelibly seared on their sides. The first guard, Jake
Blair, Morg Tussler, and Clay Zilligan, were detailed to cut and drive
the squads into the chute. These three were the only mounted men, the
others being placed so as to facilitate the work. Cattle are as innocent
as they are strong, and in this necessary work everything was done
quietly, care being taken to prevent them from becoming excited. As
fast as they were released from the chute, Dr. Beaver took a list of the
ranch brands, in order to bill of sale them to Lovell and settle with
his neighbors.

The work moved with alacrity. As one chuteful was being freed the next
one was entering. Gates closed in their faces and the bull-bars at the
rear locked them as in a vice. We were averaging a hundred an hour, but
the smoke from the burning hair was offensive to the lungs. During the
forenoon Burl Van Vedder and Vick Wolf "spelled" Flood and myself for
half an hour at a time, or until we could recover from the nauseous
fumes. When the cook called us to dinner, we had turned out nearly five
hundred branded cattle. No sooner was the midday mea