We hike to bed, if anybody should ask yuh." So it was not till after dinner that he rode back to the great herd--with his Kodak in his pocket--to find the cattle split up into several bunches.

The riders at once went to work separating the different brands.

He was too green a hand to do anything but help hold the "cut," and that was so much like ordinary herd-ing that his interest flagged.

He wanted, more than anything, to ride into the bunch and single out a Lazy Eight steer, skillfully hazing him down the slope to the cut, as he saw the others do.
Bob told him it was the biggest mix-up he had ever seen, and Bob had ridden the range in every State where beef grows wild.

He was in the thickest of the huddle, was Bob, working as if he did not know the meaning of fatigue.