“Good! I’m glad they were heading away from V. M. Ranch, whoever they are.” Malcolm said then added: “Boys, I think we’d better all three drive this herd in to the station. It’s going to take some skillful handling to get them aboard the cars. It’s nine now and I expected to get them loaded by this time.” Then anxiously, “Slim, you’ve had a hard time of it this past twenty-four hours. You ought to get some sleep before we start.”
“Caint spare the time, Malcolm. Ah reckon thar’ll be enough for sleep when this here herd is boxed up in the car. Ah reckon thar will.”
Lucky had been silently watching the restlessly lowing heard. “Malcolm,” he said, “we’d better start, ’pears like. That wild one’s got to wear a drag to keep it from boltin’, an’ that’ll make it plumb slow goin’ for the rest.”
“Right you are,” the young master of V. M. replied. “We certainly don’t want to take any chances on a stampede today, since the cars are scheduled to be picked up by the through freighter tonight at seven.” Then, turning to his sister, he added, “Virg, will you girls pack us some grub and we’ll start as soon as we can get the herd in shape.”
“Indeed we will.” Then catching the hands of two of her friends and nodding to the third, away she ran toward the ranch house.
“Oh, I just adore all this,” Betsy exclaimed an hour later when the girls, having packed the saddle bags with good things until they bulged, stood out on the front veranda watching the three cowboys as they drove the still restless herd up over the mesa.
“That poor wild steer will wish he had been less obstreperous,” the quiet Margaret said. “He can hardly take a step without stumbling over that long pole that drags between his front legs.”
“I like him,” Babs surprised the others by remarking. “I like his spirit. Somehow a desire for freedom seems to belong to the desert and his surely is unquenchable, but next week he will be—”
“Oh, do let’s forget that part of it.” Virginia spoke with unusual seriousness. “I hate it.” Then noting the expressions of inquiry, she explained. “I don’t understand in the least what makes me feel so queerly about it. Nevertheless, I do. I don’t believe that we have any right to take that wonderful thing, Life, from any creature to which it has been given. We may find sometime that we have been doing something grievously wrong. But there,” she added in a gayer tone, “since I am the part owner of a business that raises live stock for the sole purpose of taking life, it hardly behooves me to moralize about it.”
“Does Malcolm know that you feel that way?” Margaret asked.