Nor was there any mistaking the man’s anxiety––even awe. There was a general rush for the corral. And by the time Jim reluctantly reached the fences he heard smothered exclamations on all sides of him. He came to the barred gateway and peered over at the cattle inside.
The first thing that caught his eye was the broadside of a big steer. On its shoulder was a brand, at which he stared first incredulously, but presently with horrified amazement. It was the familiar “
.” He looked at others. Everywhere he saw his own brand, “double-star twice,” as it was popularly known, on cattle which he recognized at a glance as being some of his employer’s finest half-bred Polled Angus stock.
His feelings at that moment were indescribable. Astonishment, incredulity, anger all battled for place, and the outcome of them all was a laugh at once mirthless and angry. He turned on the two men waiting with their shouldered saddles.
“I’ll take your report––up at the shack.” And he pointed at his hut, fifty yards away.
The men moved off obediently. And Jim, left to his own unpleasant thoughts, followed them up.
Half-way to the hut he was joined by McLagan. The Irishman had seen the cattle come in, and was anxious to learn the particulars. His manner, after his recent ill-humor, 213 was almost jocular. He realized that these were cattle he had lost.
“Say, Jim, those boys have picked up a dandy bunch of the lost ones. How many?”
But the foreman’s humor did not by any means fit in with his employer’s.