When dinner was over and we had caught horses for the afternoon and were ready to mount, Flood asked our guests for their credentials as duly authorized trail cutters.  They replied that they had none, but offered in explanation the statement that they were merely cutting in the interest of the immediate locality, which required no written authority.

Then the previous affability of our foreman turned to iron.  “Well, men,” said he, “if you have no authority to cut this trail, then you don’t cut this herd.  I must have inspection papers before I can move a brand out of the county in which it is bred, and I’ll certainly let no other man, local or duly appointed, cut an animal out of this herd without written and certified authority.  You know that without being told, or ought to.  I respect the rights of every man posted on a trail to cut it.  If you want to see my inspection papers, you have a right to demand them, and in turn I demand of you your credentials, showing who you work for and the list of brands you represent; otherwise no harm’s done; nor do you cut any herd that I’m driving.”

“Well,” said one of the men, “I saw a couple of head in my own individual brand as we rode up the herd.  I’d like to see the man who says that I haven’t the right to claim my own brand, anywhere I find it.”

“If there’s anything in our herd in your individual brand,” said Flood, “all you have to do is to give me the brand, and I’ll cut it for you.  What’s your brand?”

“The ‘Window Sash.’”

“Have any of you boys seen such a brand in our herd?” inquired Flood, turning to us as we all stood by our horses ready to start.

“I didn’t recognize it by that name,” replied Quince Forrest, who rode in the swing on the branded side of the cattle and belonged to the last guard, “but I remember seeing such a brand, though I would have given it a different name.  Yes, come to think, I’m sure I saw it, and I’ll tell you where:  yesterday morning when I rode out to throw those drifting cattle away from our herd, I saw that brand among the Ellison cattle which had stampeded the night before.  When Straw’s outfit cut theirs out yesterday, they must have left the ‘Window Sash’ cattle with us; those were the range cattle which stampeded his herd.  It looked to me a little blotched, but if I’d been called on to name it, I’d called it a thief’s brand.  If these gentlemen claim them, though, it’ll only take a minute to cut them out.”

“This outfit needn’t get personal and fling out their insults,” retorted the claimant of the “Window Sash” brand, “for I’ll claim my own if there were a hundred of you.  And you can depend that any animal I claim, I’ll take, if I have to go back to the ranch and bring twenty men to help me do it.”

“You won’t need any help to get all that’s coming to you,” replied our foreman, as he mounted his horse.  “Let’s throw the herd together, boys, and cut these ‘Window Sash’ cattle out.  We don’t want any cattle in our herd that stampede on an open range at midnight; they must certainly be terrible wild.”