bunch of mixed cattle rounded up and surrounded by a dozen of
them, sitting coolly on their haunches till some unwary yearling left
the protecting horns of its elders. Every time, when riding the range,
that we spotted a lobo ropes were down at once and a more or less long
chase ensued, the result depending much whether Mr Wolf had dined lately
or not. But they were more addicted to horse and donkey flesh if
obtainable. For purposes of poisoning them I used to buy donkeys at a
dollar apiece and cut them up for bait. With hounds they gave good sport
in a suitable country. But it is expensive work, as many dogs get
killed, and no dog of any breed, unless maybe the greyhound, can or
will singly and twice tackle a lobo wolf.

In the springtime, when the calves are dropping pretty thick, it is
exceedingly interesting to note the protective habits of the mother
cows. For instance, when riding you will frequently come on a two or
three days' old baby snugly hidden in a bunch of long grass while the
mother has gone to water. When calves get a little older you may find at
mid-day, out on the prairie, some mile or two from water, a bunch of
maybe forty calves. Their mammies have gone to drink; but not all of
them! No, never all of them at the same time. One cow is always left to
guard the helpless calves, and carries out her trust faithfully until
relieved. This was and is still a complete mystery to me. Does this
individual cow select and appoint herself to the office; or is she
balloted for, or how otherwise is the selection made?

This might be another picture subject--the gallant cow on the defensive,
even threatening and aggressive, and the many small helpless calves
gathering hastily around her for protection. Her! The self-appointed
mother of the brood.

When branding calves, suppose you have 400 cows and calves in the
corral. First all calves are separated into a smaller pen. Then the
branding begins. But what an uproar of bellows and "baas" takes place!
My calves were all so very like one another in colour and markings that
one was hardly distinguishable from another. The mothers can only
recognize their hopeful offspring by their scent and by their "baa,"
although amongst 400 it must be rather a nice art to do so--400
different and distinct scents and 400 differently-pitched baas.

Among these notes I should not forget to mention a brush plant that
grows on the southern plains. It is well named the "wait-a-bit" thor