near the fire, saws at hand, searing-iron heating, tar-pot simmering.
The herd bellowed in the outer corral. The riders, ropes in hand, sat
with laughing faces turned toward Judith, who was to rope the first
steer. Douglas wished that there were not so many of the riders with
admiration in their eyes. Judith sat Swift lightly, edging mischievously
now against one rider, now another. Swift bit Buster, who reared while
Douglas swore laughingly. Magpies swooped from the blue spruce at the
edge of the corral, black and white against pale blue. The cattle, all
Herefords, red and white, milled about and lowed and tossed worried
heads. The riders, sheepskin chaps flapping, bright neckerchiefs
fluttering, shouted and cursed and fingered their lariats. Dogs, yellow
dogs, black dogs, gray dogs, spotted dogs, continuously encroached
from without the fence and were ordered or lashed away.

Suddenly Swift shot from the group of horses. Judith spun her lariat
and a lusty young steer, well back toward the south fence, turned and
stumbled. Swift sat back on her haunches, turned as she rose and leaped
toward the dehorning corral. The bellowing steer was dragged backward,
his left foot securely roped. He fell as they reached the gate and
skidded helplessly on his side through the trampled yellow snow.

The men by the fire were ready. One of them perched on the steer's flank
and freed the lariat, while another sat astride his neck and amidst a
gush of blood sawed off the horns close to the head. John seared the
stubs with the hot iron dipped in tar. The poor brute bellowed with
fright and pain. Judith recoiled her lariat and made way for Jimmy Day,
who slid up with a protesting heifer.

"'Jude!" he shouted. "You're the cow ropingest girl in the Rockies! Say,
Jude, ain't you afraid that baa-baa you're riding will buck with you?