vaiting for you on der veranda iss," answered
Carl solemnly.

"Well, what do I care?" asked Ted. "He's come at a mighty busy time if
he just wants to swap a little conversation. Did he say what he wanted?"

"No, but he say it is very important vork, an' for you to hurry."

"My compliments to the marshal, and tell him I'm busy, and will see him
as soon as I get through. You entertain him for a while."

"But he der boss iss."

"Not on this ranch. This is a free and unadulterated republic, where
there are no bosses. Tell him to make himself at home, and I'll be
there as soon as I can."

Now the cattle were all rounded up, and the cutting out of the two and
three-year olds began.

This was intensely exciting work, in which Stella joined, as she was as
skilled at it as any of the boys. Outside of the big herd, the cowboys
were picking up the cut-outs and driving them to the branding pens, for
many of them were acquired stock, and even many of the home yearlings
had never been branded.

Then the cows with calves were cut out, so that the youngsters might get
a touch of life by feeling the sting of the hot iron with the Crescent V
brand on it.

The buyers were circulating in the herds, looking over the stock.

Several of the buyers had brought their own cow-punchers with them, and
these went to work cutting out the selections of their employers.

The sky was thick with dust, and the air rang with the shouts of the
cowboys and the lowing and bellowing of the cattle.

The rattle of countless hoofs on the hard soil added to the din, and the
cattle weaving in and out ceaselessly, and the dashing riding of the
cowboys as they swooped out of the mass occasionally to drive back an
escaping steer, made a scene of excitement, movement, and noise never
seen anywhere, except at a Western cattle round-up and cut-out.

Soon the work was pretty well in hand, and, leaving Bud Morgan as
segundo, Ted went to the house to see the marshal.

He found that officer sitting on the veranda, quietly smoking a cigar,
an interested witness of the proceedings.

"How are you, Mr. Easton?" said Ted, shaking hands with the marshal. "I
must apologize for not coming sooner, but my hands were full."

"So I see," said the marshal cordially. "I was watching you work out
there. Say, I believe I'd like to be a cow-puncher if I wasn't so old."

"It's a young man's job," said Ted, laughing; "and even at that it is
about all a young fellow can sta