Beaver, Jim and I rode for the ranch about a mile distant. The
doctor was a genial host, and prescribed a series of mint-juleps,
after which he proposed that we ride out and meet the cattle
gathered during the day. The outfit had been working a section of
country around some lagoons, south of the ranch, and it was fully
six o'clock when we met them, heading homeward. The cattle were
fully up to the standard of the first bunch, and halting the herd
we trimmed them down and passed on them. After Flood rode out of
this second contingent, I culled back about a dozen light
weights. On finishing, Jim gave me a quiet wink, and said
something to Dr. Beaver about a new broom. But I paid no
attention to these remarks; in a country simply teeming with
prime beeves, I was determined to get a herd to my liking. Dr.
Beaver had assured Lovell that he and his neighbors would throw
together over four thousand beeves in making up the herd, and now
I was perfectly willing that they should. It would take two days
longer to gather the cattle on the Los Lobos range, and then
there were the outside offerings, which were supposed to number
fully two thousand. There was no excuse for not being choice.

On returning to Los Lobos about dusk, rather than offend its
owner, Flood consented to remain at the ranch overnight, but I
rode for camp. Darkness had fallen on my reaching the wagon, the
herd had been bedded down, and Levering felt so confident that
the remuda was contented that he had concluded to night-herd them
himself until midnight, and then turn them loose until dawn. He
had belled a couple of the leaders, and assured me that he would
have them in hand before sun-up. The cook was urging me to
supper, but before unsaddling, I rode around both herd and
remuda. The cattle were sleeping nicely, and the boys assured me