“Never saw so many cattle in one bunch before, did yuh?” queried Cal, misinterpreting the glance.

Pink shook his head vaguely.  “Does one man own all those cows?” he wanted to know, with just the proper amount of incredulous wonder.

“Yeah—­and then some.  This ain’t any herd at all; just a few that we’re shipping to get ’em out uh the way uh the real herds.”

“About how many do you think there are here?” asked Pink.

Cal turned his back upon his conscience and winked at Weary.  “Oh, there’s only nine thousand, seven hundred and twenty-one,” he lied boldly.  “Last bunch we gathered was fifty-one thousand six hundred and twenty-nine and a half.  Er—­the half,” he explained hastily in answer to Pink’s look of unbelief, “was a calf that we let in by mistake.  I caught it, after we counted, and took it back to its mother.”

“I should think,” Pink ventured hesitatingly, “it would be hard to find its mother.  I don’t see how you could tell.”

“Well,” said Cal gravely, sliding sidewise in the saddle, “it’s this way.  A calf is always just like its mother, hair for hair.  This calf had white hind feet, one white ear, and the deuce uh diamonds on its left side.  All I had to do was ride the range till I found the cow that matched.”

“Oh!” Pink looked thoughtful and convinced.

Weary, smiling to himself, rode off to take his station at the other side of the herd.  Even the Happy Family must place duty a pace before pleasure, and Cal, much as he would liked to have continued the conversation, resisted temptation and started down along the nearest edge of the bunch.  Pink showed inclination to follow.

“You stay where you’re at, sonny,” Cal told him, over his shoulder.

“What must I do?” Pink straightened his tie and set his panama more firmly on his yellow curls, for a brisk wind was blowing.

Cal’s voice came back to him faintly:  “Just dub around here and don’t do a darn thing; and don’t bother the cattle.”

“Good advice, that,” Pink commented amusedly.  “Hits day-herding off to a T.”  He prepared for a lazy afternoon, and enjoyed every minute.

On his way back to camp at suppertime, Pink rode close to Cal and looked as if he had something on his mind.  Cal and Weary exchanged glances.

“I’d like to ask,” Pink began timidly, “how you fed that calf—­before you found his mother.  Didn’t he get pretty hungry?”

“Why, I carried a bottle uh milk along,” Cal lied fluently.  “When the bottle went empty I’d catch a cow and milk it.”

“Would it stand without being tied?”

“Sure.  All range cows’ll gentle right down, if yuh know the right way to approach ’em, and the words to say.  That’s a secret that we don’t tell anybody that hasn’t been a cowboy for a year, and rode fourteen broncos straight up.  Sorry I can’t tell yuh.”

Pink went diplomatically back to the calf.  “Did you carry it in your arms, or—­”