Edgar strode away, but it was half an hour later when he came back, hot
and angry, with the cattle crashing through the brush in front of him.
Then the reunited herd set off at a smart pace across the plain.

"They seem fond of an evening gallop," Edgar remarked. "Anyhow,
they're going the right way, which strikes me as something to be
thankful for."

They rode on, and it was getting dark when they checked the herd near a
straggling poplar bluff. The grass was good, the beasts began to feed
quietly, and after picketing their horses the men lay down on their
blankets. It was growing cooler, a vivid band of green still flickered
along the prairie's rim, and the deep silence was intensified by the
soft sound the cattle made cropping the dew-damped herbage.

"I wonder if they go to sleep," mused Edgar. "I'm beginning to think
this kind of thing must be rather fine when one gets used to it. It's
a glorious night."

By and by he drew his blanket round him and sank into slumber; but for
a while George, who had paid a high price for a Hereford bull, lay
awake, thinking and calculating. It would cost a good deal more than
he had anticipated to work the farm; Sylvia had no funds that could be
drawn upon, and his means were not large. Economy and good management
would be needed, but he was determined to make a success of his
undertaking. At last, seeing that the herd showed no signs of moving,
he went to sleep.

Awakening at sunrise George found that, except for the horses, there