waving his arms. She
got down, ran around to the western side of the hill, and called to the
biggest brother on the level prairie below her. He stopped the ox-team
and tried to understand what the eldest was saying. But it was not made
clear until the youngest unhitched a horse from the wagon and mounting
it, still harnessed, started across the wheat-field with the dogs in
full cry before him.

The herd, which before breakfast had been driven north to the river
meadows, was returning to feed upon the young crops, and was dangerously
near the river edge of the wheat. The cattle were grazing as they
advanced, the cows leading and the beef cattle bringing up the rear. And
when the foremost animals saw the youngest brother cantering toward them
with the pack, they only hurried forward the faster so as to get a taste
of the forbidden grain before they were compelled to turn tail.

Snapping and yelping, the dogs came down upon them, and the herd, two
hundred strong, fled before them, with futile reaches after mouthfuls of
the wheat as they ran. But, scarcely an hour later, when the little girl
was sauntering home behind the biggest brother and the oxen, the cattle
faced about and started slowly back again; and, when the family was just
gathering about the dinner-table, they swarmed across the prairie and
into the fields. This time the youngest brother not only rode out and
drove them back to the meadows, but remained between them and the farm
till the biggest finished his meal and relieved him.

It was plain that some one would have to stay with the cattle throughout
the rest of the day; for, having gotten a taste of the grain, they would
return as often as they were driven away and trample down what they did
not steal. But not one of the big brothers felt that he could be spared
from the work on the smoke-house.

"Say, ma," said the eldest brother, looking at the little girl as he got
up from the dinner-table and took his hat from the elk antlers in the
hall, "I've thought the whole thing out, and I don't see why this
youngster can't herd. She learned to ride; now she can keep them cattle
in the meadows as well as not."

"Oh, you know she's too little," answered her mother; "she'd fall off
her pony if the cattle crowded, and get stepped on."

"Ah, too little," he said superciliously. "All she'd have to do is stay
behind the cattle and sick the dogs every little while."

The little girl's mother shook her head.

"Wel