Helen almost giggled. To consider the giant foreman of Sunset Ranch a romantic type was certainly “going some.” She had the wicked thought that she would have given a large sum of money, right then and there, to have had Big Hen announced by Gregson and ushered into the presence of this group of city girls.
“Well,” continued Helen, thus urged, “father had given me a little rifle and Big Hen gave me a maverick——”
“What’s that?” demanded Flossie.
“Well, in this case,” explained Helen, “it was an orphaned calf. Sometimes they’re strays that haven’t been branded. But in this case a bear had killed the calf’s mother in a coulée. She had tried to fight Mr. Bear, of course, or he never would have killed her at that time of year. Bears aren’t dangerous unless they’re hungry.”
“My! but they look dangerous enough—at the zoo,” observed Flossie.
“I tell ye,” said Helen, reflectively, “that was a pretty calf. And I was little, and I hated to hear them blat when the boys burned them——”
“Burned them! Burned little calves! How cruel! What for?”
These were some of the excited comments. And in spite of Belle and Hortense, most of the visitors were now interested in the Western girl’s narration.
“They have to brand ’em, you see,” explained Helen. “Otherwise we never could pick our cattle out from other herds at the round-up. You see, on the ranges—even the fenced ranges—cattle from several ranches often get mixed up. Our brand is the Link-A. Our ranch was known, in the old days, as the ‘Link-A.’ It’s only late years that we got to calling it Sunset Ranch.”
“Sunset Ranch!” cried Miss Van Ramsden, quickly. “Haven’t I heard something about that ranch? Isn’t it one of the big, big cattle and horse-breeding ranches?”