"They have to brand 'em, you see," explained Helen. "Otherwise we never could pick our cattle out from other herds at the round-up. You see, on the ranges--even the fenced ranges--cattle from several ranches often get mixed up. Our brand is the Link-A. Our ranch was known, in the old days, as the 'Link-A.' It's only late years that we got to calling it Sunset Ranch." "Sunset Ranch!" cried Miss Van Ramsden, quickly. "Haven't I heard something about _that_ ranch? Isn't it one of the big, big cattle and horse-breeding ranches?" "Yes, ma'am," said Helen, slowly, fearing that she had unwittingly got into a blind alley of conversation. "And your father owns _that_ ranch?" cried Miss Van Ramsden. "My--my father is dead," said Helen. "I am an orphan." "Oh, dear me! I am so sorry," murmured the wealthy young lady. But here Belle broke in, rather scornfully: "The child means that her father worked on that ranch. She has lived there all her life. Quite a rude place, I fawncy." Helen's eyes snapped. "Yes. He worked there," she admitted, which was true enough, for nobody could honestly have called Prince Morrell a sluggard. "He was--what you call it--a cowpuncher, I believe," whispered Belle, in an aside. If Helen heard she made no sign, but went on with her story. "You see, it was _such_ a pretty calf," she repeated. "It had big blue eyes at first--calves often do. And it was all sleek and brown, and it played so cunning. Of course, its mother being dead, I had a lot of trouble with it at first. I brought it up by hand. "And I tied a broad pink ribbon around its neck, with a big bow at the back. When it slipped around under its neck Bozie would somehow get the end of the ribbon in its mouth, and chew, and chew on it till it was nothing but pulp." She laughed reminiscently, and the others, watching her pretty face in the firelight, smiled too. "So you called it Bozie?" asked Miss Van Ramsden. "Yes. And it followed me everywhere. If I went out to try and shoot plover or whistlers with my little rifle, there was Bozie tagging after me. So, you see when it came calf-branding time, I hid Bozie." "You hid it? How?" demanded Flossie. "Seems to me a calf would be a big thing to hide." "I didn't hide it under my bed," laughed Helen. "No, sir! I took it out to a far distant _coulee_ where I used to go to play--a long way from the bunk-house--and I hitched Bozie to a stub of a tree where there was nice, short, sweet grass for him. "I hitched him in the morning, for the branding fires were going to be built right after dinner. But I had to show up at dinner--sure. The whole gang would have been out hunting me if I didn't report for meals." "Yes. I presume you ran perfectly wild," sighed Hortense, trying to look as though she were sorry for this half-savage little cousin from the "wild and woolly."