other in such rapid succession that the wonder was some were not branded
twice. As fast as each brute received his mark he was driven out of
another gate and over the hills, lest his ill-nature should be the cause
of wild disorder.

The vaqueros handled their dangerous charges with admirable skill,
keeping those to be branded in groups of a hundred or more at some
distance from the corral, riding round them constantly with peremptory
shouts. Other vaqueros, belonging to the same herd, segregated the
animals immediately required and drove them in a straight line for the
corral. There was not a moment of pause. The vaqueros, the brander, and
his assistants seemed impervious to fatigue; the cattle, shifting
uneasily in their bands, leaped eagerly from the lines at the first
signal from the vaquero bearing down on them like a fury from the
corral. On the far side, otherwise deserted, the sore indignant beasts
scampered as fast as their legs could carry them whithersoever their
vaquero chose to drive.

After two hours or more, the atmosphere was charged with a certain
breathless excitement, as was natural enough. The constant cyclonic rush
of vaqueros and cattle, the angry bellowings, the increasing masses of
animals, the furious shouts of the men, had changed a peaceable
landscape into a vast theatre full of tragic possibilities. The waiting
cattle were growing more and more restless, and there was a low rumble
among them. Don Tiburcio motioned to his guests that it was time to
leave; moreover, it was nearing the dinner hour.

"Rafael!" he called. His son turned his head impatiently, but prepared
to obey; the Californian youth was brought up on rigid lines.