“I’ll make a horse wrangler out of this boy,” said Sargent to the father, in the presence of Dell and Joel.  “Before the summer ends, he’ll know every crook and turn in the remuda.  There’s nothing like knowing your horses.  Learn to trail down the lost; know their spirit, know them in health, lame and wounded.  If a horse neighs at night, know why; if one’s missing in the morning, name him like you would an absent boy at school.”

The trip down to the railroad was largely a matter of patience.  The beeves were given every advantage, and except the loss of sleep in night-herding, the work approached loafing against time.  Three guards stood watch during the short summer nights, pushing the herd off its bed at dawn, grazing early and late, and resting through the noon hours.

An agreeable surprise awaited the original trio.  The evening before loading out, the beeves must be penned, and Joel rode into the station in advance, to see that cars were in waiting and get the shipping details.  As if sent on the same errand, Manly met him, having been ordered on from Trail City.

“I’ve been burning the wires all morning,” said he to Joel, “for a special train for this shipment.  The agent wanted us to take a local freight from here, but I showed him there were other train shipments to follow.  A telegram to the commission firm and another one to my old man done the work.  Those old boys know how to pull the strings.  A special train has been ordered, and you can name your own hour for leaving in the morning.  I have a man with me; send us in horses and we’ll help you corral your beeves.”

Joel remained only long enough to confirm Manly’s foresight.  Two horses were sent in by Dell, and the welcome addition of two extra men joined the herd, which was easily corralled at dusk of evening.  An early hour was agreed upon to load out, the empty train came in promptly, and the first shipment of the year was cut into car lots and loaded out during a morning hour.

Before the departure of the train, an air of activity was noticeable around the bleak station.  The train crew was insisting for a passenger schedule, there was billing to be done and contracts to execute, telegrams of notification to be sent the commission firm, and general instructions to the beef outfit.  Joel and Sargent were to accompany the shipment, and on starting, while the engineer and conductor were comparing their running orders, Sargent called out from the rear of the caboose:—­

“The best of friends must part,” said he, pretending to weep.  “Here’s two bits; buy yourself some cheese and crackers, and take some candy home to the children.  Manly, if I never come back, you can have my little red wagon.  Dell, my dear old bunkie—­well, you can have all my other playthings.”

The cattle train faded from sight and the outfit turned homeward.  Horses were left at the station for Joel and Sargent, and the remainder of the outfit reached headquarters the following day.  Manly had been away from the ranch nearly six months, and he and Dell rode the range, pending the return of the absent.  Under ideal range conditions, the cattle of marketable age proved a revelation, having rounded into form beyond belief.