quart-pots put in the blaze, the damper and bag
of meat brought out, and soon everybody was munching the hard tucker
with a relish which can be gained only by a vigorous life in the open
air. As soon as three of the black-boys had finished, they were sent
out to relieve the ones who were watching the cattle, and at the end of
the hour's middle-day "camp", everybody was ready for the branding.

There were one or two trees on the plain, and a suitable one was chosen
with a strong bough about five feet from the ground. A pile of wood
was collected and a fire lit and the brands made red-hot. Green-hide
ropes were uncoiled to get the kinks out and coiled again ready for
instant use, and every horseman saw to the tightness of his
saddle-girth. Mick stood near the tree waiting to brand and cut, and
with him were Fiddle-head and Jack Johnson for the front and back leg
ropes, and Eagle to keep the brands hot and hand them when required.
Poona and Uncle were each armed with a long pliant bull-hide lasso, and
the two white boys and Calcoo rode round the cattle, keeping them well
bunched up.

Mick looked round to see that every man was in his place, gave his
knife an extra rub or two on his boot, and then shouted: "Right-o!"

Poona and Uncle rode forward at once to different ends of the mob.
Each of them singled out a cleanskin, and almost at the same time two
lassoes whirled through the air. The thin bull-hides uncoiled and
uncoiled as they sped over the heads of the cattle, and the loops kept
wide open and fell around the necks of the chosen victims. Both horses
propped immediately, and the lasso-men sat back to take the strain. It
came, but the horses knew their work and lay back, almost sitting on
their tails, till the bucking, bellowing animals on the end of the
ropes ceased their first efforts to escape. Then, bit by bit, as
carefully as an angler plays a game fish, the beasts were drawn out of
the mob, while Sax, Vaughan, and Calcoo kept the others from breaking
away.

There is always keen rivalry between lasso-men as to who pulls his
beast up to the fire first. Poona won this time, for the young bull on
the end of Uncle's rope lay down and had to be dragged by main force,
just as if it had been a bag of flour. When Poona reached the fire,
Mick jerked the lasso over the outstanding bough in order to keep the
clean-skin from running round. Meanwhile Fiddle-head and Jack Johnson
were on the alert with their rope