Incidentally he took his cue from his neighbors, and shouted
till his voice was a croak-though he could not see that he
accomplished anything either by his prodding or his shouting.

Below him surged the sea of hide and horns which was barely
suggestive of the animals as individuals. Out in the corrals
the dust-cloud hung low, just as it had hovered every day for
more than two weeks; just as it would hover every day for two
weeks longer. Across the yards near the big, outer gate Deacon
Smith's crew was already beginning to brand. The first train
was barely unloaded when the second trailed in and out on the
siding; and so the third came also. Then came a lull, for the
consignment had been split in two and the second section was
several hours behind the first.

Thurston rode out to camp, aching with the strain and ravenously
hungry, after toiling with his muscles for the first time in his
life; for his had been days of physical ease. He had yet to
learn the art of working so that every movement counted
something accomplished, as did the others; besides, he had been
in constant fear of losing his hold on the fence and plunging
headlong amongst the trampling hoofs below, a fate that he
shuddered to contemplate. He did not, however, mention that
fear, or his muscle ache, to any man; he might be green, but he
was not the man to whine.

When he went back into the dust and roar, Park ordered him
curtly to tend the branding fire, since both crews would brand
that afternoon and get the corrals cleared for the next
shipment. Thurston thanked Park mentally; tending branding-fire