making
a shelf-table; behind the movable back are a cupboard and the cook's
store-lockers, always well stocked, for the 'punchers' (men who brand
the cattle) are men of mighty appetite. Meals served on the prairie by
the cow-waggon cook are splendid. They consist of coffee and beans,
bacon and beef, dried fruit and delicious rolls. The rolls and other
'sour-dough' dainties are baked in a Dutch oven. The term 'sour-dough'
is another Western word. It was first used to denote the light bread
baked by the cow-waggon cook, though the bread is usually excellent. A
later use of 'sour-dough' is as a title for newly arrived miners in the
Arctic goldfields of the Klondyke.

When the camping-ground is reached, a wide canvas is stretched over the
cow-waggon; this spreads out on all sides, and is a shade 'in a weary
land' for the tired puncher.

Cattle are on the move at sunrise, and it behoves the cow-boy to be also
on the alert. The sun, coming up over the great stretches of plain,
gives a similar impression to that of a sunrise at sea. If the round-up
is in Alberta, the grass is fragrant with wild flowers, especially the
dwarf-rose, and the morning air is melodious with bird-songs.

The 'puncher' comes out from his blankets and scans the hundreds of
cattle dotted here and there in the shadow of the foot-hills. Presently
an animal stretches out its hind legs and comes clumsily to its feet;
others follow, and the herds are soon busily cropping the dew-laden
grass. The puncher looks at his rope and his horse, sniffs the aroma of
coffee, and promptly answers to the call of 'Grub.' There is a flourish
of tin plates and cups, and of iron-handled knives and forks, and a
rapid disappearance of the 'chuck.' Then to horse and the duties of the
day.

[Illustration: A Cow Waggon Encamped and on the March.]

The 'outfit' is packed. The cook hitches up the horses and starts for
the next camping-ground. The cow-boys pursue their business of 'cutting
out;' cattle, with tails valiantly erect, snorting defiance, rush by the
'cow-waggon,' which, unmoved amid this mimic war, goes lurching over the
plain.

Like many other institutions of the West, the cow-waggon will, in a few
years, be a thing of the past. Wire fences, and the enclosure of the
pasturelands, are getting rid of the need for it.

[Illustration: "'I will come with you at once.'"]

THE BROKEN PROMISE.

'I don't want any tea,' said Roger, as he pulled off his muddy boo