Dawn comes early in the foothills at the end of June. Long before four o'clock the sky was pink, the grouse were whistling in the alfalfa, the morning breeze had begun to flutter the quaking asps, a cool, fresh smell of juicy grass had risen from the earth, and the world of animals had begun to feed. The cattle were the first to move. Almost before dawn they leave their bedding ground and follow the scent of the nearest pasture. For Ludlum's stock Rob's wheat and alfalfa were the lure. As they snuffed the sweetness of growing grass, the leaders of the herd broke into hungry bawling, set off at a gallop, and, as they reached the fence, plunged at it and went over. Harry woke to 'Thello's furious barking. She woke with a start, got to her elbow and peered out. In the dim light she could make out forms moving across the field. With a sigh she climbed out of bed and, still nodding with sleep, dressed and stumbled off to saddle her pony, Hike. Of the two gates to the alfalfa meadow, one led into the lane at the barn and the other into the east pasture. It was in that pasture that Rob and Harry were holding the new herd until the animals became accustomed to their home. Now, as Harry rode slowly down the lane, she wondered what would be her best plan of action. If she ran the intruders out over the broken-down fence, they would merely turn round and come in again; but if she took them through the lane, up the draw and across the flat on top of the hills and ran them south a good way, they might continue down that side of the divide. "It would serve Ludlum right," she said to herself, "to have his starved creatures break into his own alfalfa some morning!" As she rode slowly toward the feeding animals the blood sprang to her temples and she drew a fierce breath. The sight of the starving beasts, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five of them, tearing away greedily at the tender alfalfa, roused in Harry an indescribable ire. "Miserable beasts!" she exclaimed. "Take 'em out, 'Thello! That's it! Get 'em, boy!" Obedient to training, the collie had kept close to the pony. Now, at the sound of Harry's voice, he was off--a vicious whirlwind of black fur. As he dashed upon the herd, snapping at heels here, there and everywhere, a stream of yelps rent the air. Shouting "Hi yi! Hi yi!" Harry set spurs to the pony and came close behind. Away they all went, steers, cows, calves, dog and girl, plunging, bawling, barking and galloping across the field and into the lane. Once actually in the lane, with the gate shut behind them, Harry felt safe. To be sure, some of the bunch were ugly and tried to turn back; but she was on the lookout for those and, pushing her pony close, gave each laggard a welt with her rawhide whip that sent the sullen one ahead with a jump.