Now that Mrs. West was fully recovered, Bess had written to her brother that she would soon rejoin him in New York. She had wished first to spend a few days in witnessing the round-up of horses in June. Bess had been anxious to attend one of the round-ups, and now she decided to avail herself of the opportunity of witnessing some of the marvelous exhibitions of which she had heard so much. CHAPTER XXIX THE BRAND _HW_ Henry West had been gone upon the round-up for a week before Bess Fletcher and Mrs. White started. The plan was for them to ride to the west shore of the Big Arm of the lake upon the appointed day, where Henry West would meet them and accompany them to the camp. The two women were ready for the long ride early in the morning, and as they proceeded along the road they chatted and laughed like happy, careless children. As they neared the vicinity where Bess had spent the happy, pleasant days in camp the autumn before, she felt conflicting emotions of pleasure and pain. Swerving from the road she led the way along the path to the deserted camp ground. The winter had not destroyed every token, for there were still the stakes where rested the dining-table; the five, large cottonwoods still bore evidences of convenient shelves and towel racks, of gun supports and where the hammock had been fastened. A faded ribbon which lay partly concealed by fallen leaves was lifted tenderly by Bess, as it recalled to her the dear little girl who had worn it. Mrs. White, one of the group, heard her give a sigh as she placed the ribbon in her bosom and hurried Mauchacho out onto the main road again. In the distance Bess could discern Henry West awaiting their coming. When they reached him he made them dismount and rest, as Mrs. White, who was not accustomed to such long rides, was plainly becoming fatigued. They enjoyed their lunch, and after becoming completely refreshed proceeded to the camp which Henry told them was at the extreme end of the Big Draw. What a marvelous and strange place the Big Draw seemed to Bess! A perfectly level stretch of nine miles which looked like only one; high, sloping hills lined both sides, which made it seem like some mighty river-bed run dry. No cattle were grazing upon the succulent grass, because, as Bess learned from Henry West, it was too far for them to go to water. He pointed out to them, up in a gulch to the left of the draw, a deserted cabin, near which trickled a tiny spring. Bess wished a drink, but when he told them the place was called Rattlesnake Gulch and that the Frenchman and his squaw had been forced to leave the place because of the venomous intrusions, she hastily recovered from her thirst and hurried on. At last the glow of the camp-fires was seen; the numerous tents gave assurance of a good night’s rest, while the delicious aroma of coffee told the weary visitors that supper was ready.