"You'll have to come, and we'll start at once. Grierson can go on
plowing with the Clydesdales, which is more than you could do."

"I'm afraid I must admit it," said Edgar, glancing at his ragged
furrow. "But I'm going to have my supper and put up some provisions
before I leave the place."

They set out an hour later, and safely reached their destination, where
George purchased a dozen cattle. They were big, red and white,
long-horned animals, accustomed to freedom, for fences are still scarce
on tracts of the prairie, and they ranged about the corral in a
restless manner. Edgar, leaning on the rails, watched them dubiously.

"They look unusually active," he remarked. "I'm not an expert at
cattle-driving, but I suppose two of us ought to take them home."

The rancher laughed.

"Two's quite a good allowance for that small bunch, but if you keep
north among the scrub poplar, you won't be bothered by many fences.
It's pretty dry in summer, but you'll get good water in Baxter's well,
if you head for the big bluff you'll see tomorrow afternoon. We'll let
them out when you're ready."

As soon as the rails were flung down, the cattle rushed out
tumultuously, as if rejoicing in their restored freedom. Then, while
George and his companion mounted, they started off across the prairie
at a steady trot.

"A mettlesome lot; seem to be in good training," Edgar commented.