of cattle with dark, thick streams and dotted lines of cattle
leading in every direction. She saw streaks and clouds of dust,
running horses, and a band of horses grazing; and she descried
horsemen standing still like sentinels, and others in action.

"The round-up! I want to know all about it--to see it," declared
Madeline. "Please tell me what it means, what it's for, and then
take me down there."

"It's sure a sight, Miss Hammond. I'll be glad to take you down,
but I fancy you'll not want to go close. Few Eastern people who
regularly eat their choice cuts of roast beef and porterhouse
have any idea of the open range and the struggle cattle have to
live and the hard life of cowboys. It'll sure open your eyes,
Miss Hammond. I'm glad you care to know. Your brother would
have made a big success in this cattle business if it hadn't been
for crooked work by rival ranchers. He'll make it yet, in spite
of them."

"Indeed he shall," replied Madeline. "But tell me, please, all
about the round-up."

"Well, in the first place, every cattleman has to have a brand to
identify his stock. Without it no cattleman, nor half a hundred
cowboys, if he had so many, could ever recognize all the cattle
in a big herd. There are no fences on our ranges. They are all
open to everybody. Some day I hope we'll be rich enough to fence
a range. The different herds graze together. Every calf has to
be caught, if possible, and branded with the mark of its mother.
That's no easy job. A maverick is an unbranded calf that has