"It's all so quiet, so wonderfully quiet," sighed Cordelia; then, abruptly, she cried: "Why, what's that?"
There had sounded a far-away shout, then another, nearer. On the breeze was borne the muffled tread of hundreds of hoofs. A dog began to bark lustily.
Later, they swept into view—a troop of cowboys, and a thronging, jostling mass of cattle.
"On the way to a round-up, probably," explained Mr. Hartley, as he rose to his feet and went to meet the foreman, who was coming toward the house.
Still later, he explained more fully.
"They've put them in our pens for the night. The boys have gone into camp a mile or so away."
Genevieve shuddered.
"I hate round-ups," she cried passionately.
"What are round-ups?" asked Bertha Brown.