The cattle were gathered in a valley up the river, sorted out from some belonging to Mr.Merwell and Mr.Hooper, and then driven off to a stockyard along the railroad line.
"Not so exciting as I thought it would be," said Dave, after the round-up was over.
"I've had all the riding I want for one day," answered the shipowner's son.
"That's right," grumbled Roger.

They had had only a quarter of an hour's rest for lunch.

"I reckon some of us will be stiff in the morning," and he was right, all felt somewhat sore.
The round-up had been a careful one, for Mr.Endicott had heard that Mr.
Merwell was finding fault over the way some of his cattle were being chased by the cowboys.

The following afternoon the Merwells--father and son--met Mr.Endicott as he and Belle were riding along the trail, talking over the family's plans for the coming winter.
"See here, I want to speak about my cattle," cried Mr.Merwell, wrathfully, as he drew rein.
"Some time when I am alone, Mr.Merwell," answered the railroad president.

He quickly saw that his neighbor was "spoiling for a fight." "Your men took three or four of my steers," went on Mr.Merwell.