ad. A look of pain crossed her face.

"Don't ask me, Elsie, please. You'll find out soon enough. Branding is
business, too, I suppose--but it's horrid. Mammy Lindy says that the
first time I saw our brand on a calf and realized what it meant and how
it got there, I cried for hours--for days, in fact, much of the time."

"Why, Genevieve," cried Elsie, wonderingly. "How dreadful! What is a
brand? I thought 'brand' meant the kind of coffee or tea one drank."

Alma frowned and threw a quick look into Genevieve's face.

"What a funny little town Bolo is!" she exclaimed, with a swift change
of subject. "I declare, it looked 'most as sleepy as Sunbridge."

"Sleepy!" laughed Genevieve, her face clearing, much to Alma's
satisfaction. "You should see Bolo when it's really awake--say when some
association of cattlemen meet there. And there's going to be one next
month, I think. There's no end of fun and frolic and horse-racing then,
with everybody there, from the cowboys and cattle-kings to the trappers
and Indians. You wouldn't think there was anything sleepy about Bolo
then, I reckon," nodded Genevieve, gayly.

"Genevieve, quick--look!--off there," cried Elsie, excitedly.

"Some more of Fred's 'boats'--three of them this time," laughed Alma,
her eyes on the three white-topped wagons glistening in the sunlight.

"Boats?" questioned Genevieve.

"That's what little Fred Wilson told us we were going to ride in,"
explained Alma. "He said they had prairie schooners here, and schooners
were boats, of course."

Genevieve laughed merrily.

"I wish Fred could see these 'boats,'" she said.

"Well, I don't know; I feel as if they were boats," declared Alma,
stoutly. "I'm sure I don't think anybody on the ocean could be any more
glad to see a sail than I should be to see one of these, if I were a
lonely traveler on this sea of grass!"

"But where are they going?" questioned Elsie.

"I don't know--nor do they, probably," rejoined Genevieve, with a
quizzical smile. "They're presumably emigrants hunting up cheap land for
a new home. There used to be lots of them, Father says; but there aren't
so many now. See--they're going to cross our way just ahead of us. We'll
get a splendid view of them."

Nearer and nearer came the curiously clumsy, yet curiously airy-looking
wagons. Sallow-faced women looked out mournfully, and tow-headed
children peeped from every vantage point. Brawny, but weary-looking men
stalked beside their teams.