The steers were very quiet now, evidently feeling quite satisfied with the manner in which they had been treated, and having, of course, no intimation of the fate in store for them. They had food and water and that is all they required. Overhead was the cloudless sky, in which sparkling stars were beginning to stud themselves. "I hope the market is well up in price when we get to the yards," observed Bud, idly chewing on a spear of grass. "Yes, it would be dandy to get a big price for this stock," agreed Nort. The boy ranchers were rapidly becoming interested in the business end of their venture, as they had been, for some time, in the more picturesque side. The difference of a fraction of a cent in the price of cattle on the hoof meant the difference of several hundred of dollars where there were many tons of meat to be considered. "Well, we'd better ride herd a little while, to make sure they get bedded down quietly," suggested Bud, as it began to get darker. "Then we'll roll up and snooze ourselves." This "bedding down" of the cattle, meaning thereby inducing them to get quiet enough so they would lie down contentedly chewing their cuds, was part of the routine of a cowboy's life. "Some of 'em have already started in," observed Nort, as he went up to his pony, which, with the other two animals, had been contentedly grazing. "Looks like they'd lived here all their lives." He indicated a score or more of the steer's that were stretched out on the rich grass which at once formed their food and their bed. "Yes, I reckon we'll have a quiet night," observed Bud. The three chums slowly rode around the bunch of cattle, the lads occasionally breaking into the chorus of some song. The cattle seemed to like this singing--not that this is to be considered a compliment to the voices of Nort, Dick and Bud, though their tones were far from unmusical. But the fact is that animals of most sorts are fond of music in any form, and nothing so seems to soothe and quiet a bunch of cattle, especially at night, as the singing of the herders. Perhaps it is due to this fact that we have so many cowboy songs with an interminable number of verses, in which there is little sense or sequence--a mere jumble of words, often repeated. The cattle seem to care more for the tune than for the sentiment. At any rate the bunch from Flume Valley grew more quiet as the night became darker, and when the remains of their camp fire gleamed dully in the blackness, as they made their way back to it, Bud and his cousins considered their work done for the day. "We won't stand any regular watch," Bud said. "I think they'll be all right. But if we should hear a disturbance--I mean any one of us--he can awaken the others, and we'll do whatever we have to." "And if we have any luck we won't have to roll out," observed Nort, as he spread out his blankets and tarpaulin, which last was to keep the dampness of the ground away.