"How can they tell which belongs to which?" "By the brand," explained Kenneth. "Each cattle owner brands every one of his cattle with a certain mark, which determines whose property the animal is." The two women now placed cushions on the carriage seats, and sat down to watch the close of the round-up. The sunset was one of unusual splendor, the glory of color falling over the mesa, and the mountain peaks that loomed up far away. As they watched the sky, they spied a cloud of dust in the distance. "At last the cattle are coming!" exclaimed Mrs. Clayton. The dust cloud grew, coming nearer and nearer. It had a fascination for Esther. While they were speculating as to the probable number of cattle, and the cowboys and cowlasses who might be with them, Kenneth Hastings and John Clayton sauntered over to the mess wagon to await the closing scene. From that point, the men watched; and from their location, the women watched the on-coming herds. The dust cloud grew larger. The great mass of struggling cattle came steadily on. After a while, cowboys could be seen, and whirling of ropes. Nearer and nearer they came, the cowboys dealing stinging blows with their quirts. The bellowing of cattle, the cursing of men, and the choking fog of dust, all mingled together, came to the two women, who watched from a safe distance. In their intense interest, they forgot that the supper hour was long past, and watched. They saw cow-punchers, weaving in and out among the cattle, whirling ropes, and yelling, and cursing by turns, until each cowboy had separated the cattle in his charge from the others. It was an enormous task. The men were still cursing and lashing, when the last soft color of the afterglow faded from the sky. When the work of the round-up was finally over, and the men were free for the night, Esther heard the cook call out to them: "Grub's ready! Cut out y'r talkin'!" adding profanity, as if to whet the appetites of the hungry men. Then the cowboys, dirt begrimed, fell to, and were soon eating with a relish that would have made dyspeptics green with envy. Slowly, John Clayton and Kenneth Hastings sauntered back, finding their own repast ready for them. They, too, had found a keen edge to their appetite. Esther even went so far as to suggest that they might have done well to have accepted the Apache's fish. "Whom do you suppose we found over there?" asked Mr. Clayton. "Our boys," suggested Esther. "Yes, several who have been at the club and at the meetings. They know you are here, Miss Bright. Let's see what they'll do." Before the meal was over, the stars began to appear in the heavens. John Clayton threw great quantities of driftwood on the bonfire, and in a few moments, the flames were licking the logs. The voices of the cow-punchers came to them now and then, but the profanity had ceased. Suddenly, singing was heard. They listened. The cowboys were singing, "There were ninety and nine."