“Well, he had me make a fire and heat the iron for him, and he branded them--last night; he was very touchy about it when I asked him what was his hurry. I think now it was a stupid thing for him to do. And--well, in the night, some time, I heard a cow bawling around close, and this morning I went out to drive her away; the fence is always down somewhere--I suppose she found a place to get through. So I went out to drive her away.” Her eyes dropped, as if she were making a confession of her own misdeed. She clenched her hands tightly in her lap. “Well--it was a Wishbone cow.” After all, she said it very quietly. “The devil it was!” Kent had been prepared for something of the sort; but, nevertheless, he started when he heard his own outfit mentioned. “Yes. It was a Wishbone cow.” Her voice was flat and monotonous. “He had stolen her calf. He had it in the corral, and he had branded it with his own brand--with a VP. _With my initials!_” she wailed suddenly, as if the thought had just struck her, and was intolerably bitter. “She had followed--had been hunting her calf; it was rather a little calf, smaller than the others. And it was crowded up against the fence, trying to get to her. There was no mistaking their relationship. I tried to think he had made a mistake; but it's of no use--I know he didn't. I know he _stole_ that calf. And for all I know, the others, too. Oh, it's perfectly horrible to think of!” Kent could easily guess her horror of it, and he was sorry for her. But his mind turned instantly to the practical side of it. “Well--maybe it can be fixed up, if you feel so bad about it. Does Polycarp--did he see the cow hanging around?” Val shook her head apathetically. “No--he didn't come till just a little while ago. That was this morning. And I drove her out of the coulee--her and her calf. They went off up over the hill.” Kent stood looking down at her rather stupidly. “You--_what?_ What was it you did?” It seemed to him that something--some vital point of the story--had eluded him. “I drove them away. I didn't think they ought to be permitted to hang around here.” Her lips quivered again. “I--I didn't want to see him--get--into any trouble.” “You drove them away? Both of them?” Kent was frowning at her now. Val sprang up and faced him, all a-tremble with indignation. “Certainly, both! _I'm_ not a thief, Kent Burnett! When I knew--when there was no possible doubt--why, what, in Heaven's name, _could_ I do? It wasn't Manley's calf. I turned it loose to go back where it belonged.” “With a VP on its ribs!” Kent was staring at her curiously.