I'd called it a thief's brand. If these gentlemen claim them, though,
it'll only take a minute to cut them out."

"This outfit needn't get personal and fling out their insults,"
retorted the claimant of the "Window Sash" brand, "for I'll claim my
own if there were a hundred of you. And you can depend that any animal
I claim, I'll take, if I have to go back to the ranch and bring twenty
men to help me do it."

"You won't need any help to get all that's coming to you," replied our
foreman, as he mounted his horse. "Let's throw the herd together,
boys, and cut these 'Window Sash' cattle out. We don't want any cattle
in our herd that stampede on an open range at midnight; they must
certainly be terrible wild."

As we rode out together, our trail cutters dropped behind and kept a
respectable distance from the herd while we threw the cattle together.
When the herd had closed to the required compactness, Flood called our
trail cutters up and said, "Now, men, each one of you can take one of
my outfit with you and inspect this herd to your satisfaction. If you
see anything there you claim, we'll cut it out for you, but don't
attempt to cut anything yourselves."

We rode in by pairs, a man of ours with each stranger, and after
riding leisurely through the herd for half an hour, cut out three head
in the blotched brand called the "Window Sash." Before leaving the
herd, one of the strangers laid claim to a red cow, but Fox
Quarternight refused to cut the animal.

When the pair rode out the stranger accosted Flood. "I notice a cow of