'And still they watched the flickering of the blaze,
And talked together of the good old days.'

'Brava!' 'Bravissima!' 'Splendid, Polly!' exclaimed the boys. 'Bell, you're a great author!'

'Couldn't have done better myself--give you my word!' cried Jack, bowing profoundly to Bell and Polly in turn, and presenting them with bouquets of faded leaves hastily gathered from the ground.

'Polly covered herself with glory,' said the doctor; 'and I am very proud of your part in it, too, my little daughter. I have some knowledge of Pancho's capabilities as a narrator, and I think the "Story of Valerio" owes a good deal to you. Now, who comes next? Margery?'

'No, please,' said Margery, 'for I have another story. Take one of the boys, and let's have more facts.'

'Yes, something historic and profound, out of the encyclopaedia, from Jack,' said Polly, saucily.

'Thanks, Miss Oliver. With you for an audience any man might be inspired; but--'

'But not a BOY?'

'Mother, dear, remove that child from my sight, or I shall certainly shake her! Phil, go on, just to keep Polly quiet.'

'Very well. Being the oldest Californian present, I--'

'What about Dr. Paul?' asked the irrepressible Polly.

'He wasn't born here,' responded Philip, dryly, 'and I was.'

'I think that's a quibble,' interrupted Bell. 'Papa was here twenty years before you were.'

'It's not my fault that he came first,' answered Philip. 'Margery and I are not only the oldest Californians present, but the only ones. Isn't that so, sir?'

'Quite correct.'

'Oh, if you mean that way, I suppose you are; but still papa helped frame the Constitution, and was here on the first Admission Day, and was one of the Vigilantes--and I think that makes him more of a real Californian than you. You've just "grown up with the country."'

'Bless my soul! What else could I do? I would have been glad to frame the Constitution, admit the State, and serve on the Vigilance Committee, if they had only waited for me; but they went straight ahead with the business, and when I was born there was nothing to do but stand round and criticise what they had done, or, as you express it, "grow up with the country." Well, as I was saying when I was interrupted--'

'Beg pardon.'

'Don't mention it. Uncle Doc has asked me to tell Mrs. Howard and Elsie how they carried on the rodeos ten or fifteen years ago. Of course I was only a little chap'--('VERY little,' murmured his sister)--'but never too small to stick on a horse, and my father used often to take me along. The rodeos nowadays are neither as great occasions, nor as exciting ones, as they used to be; but this is the way a rodeo is managed. When the spring rains are mostly over, and the grass is fine,--say in April--the ranchero of a certain ranch sends word to all his neighbours that he will hold a rodeo on a certain day or days. Of course the cattle used to stray all over the country, and get badly mixed, as there were no fences; so the rodeo was held for the purpose of separating the cattle and branding the calves that had never been marked.

'The owners of the various ranches assemble the night before, bringing their vaqueros with them. They start out very early in the morning, having had a cup of coffee, and ride to the "rodeo-ground," which is any flat, convenient place where canyons converge. Many of the cattle on the hills round about know the place, having been there before, and the vaqueros start after them and drive them to the spot.'

'How many vaqueros would there be?' asked Elsie.

'Oh, nine or ten, perhaps; and often from one thousand to three thousand cattle--it depends on the number of ranches and cattle represented. Some of the vaqueros form a circle round the cattle that they have driven to the rodeo-ground, and hold them there while others go back to the ranch for breakfast and fresh horses.'

'Fresh horses so soon?' said Mrs. Howard. 'I thought the mustangs were tough, hardy little beasts, that would go all day without dropping.'

'Yes, so they are; but you always have to begin to "part out" the cattle with the freshest and best-trained horses you have. The owners and their best vaqueros now go into the immense band of cattle, and try to get the cows and the unbranded calves separated from the rest. You can imagine what skilful engineering this takes, even though you never saw it. Two work together; they start a certain cow and calf and work them through the band of cattle until they near the outside, and then "rush" them to a place three or four hundred yards beyond, where other vaqueros are stationed to receive and hold them. Of course the cattle don't want to leave the band, and of course they don't want to stay in the spot to which they are driven.'

'I don't blame them!' cried Bell impetuously. 'Probably the cows remember the time when they were branded themselves, and they don't want their dear little bossies put through the same operation.'

'Very likely. Then more cows and calves are started in the same way; the greatest difficulty being had with the first lot, for the cattle always stay more contentedly together as the group grows larger. Occasionally one "breaks" and runs off on the hills, and a vaquero starts after him, throws the reata and lassos him, or "lass's" him, as the California boys say.'

'There must be frightful accidents,' said Mrs. Winship.

'Yes; but not so many as you would suppose, for the horsemanship, in its particular way, is something wonderful. When an ugly steer is lassoed and he feels the reata or lariat round his neck, he sometimes turns and "makes" for the horse, and unless the vaquero is particularly skilful he will be gored and his horse too; but he gives a dexterous turn to the lariat, the animal steps over it, gets tangled and thrown. Frequently an animal breaks a horn or a leg. Sometimes one fall is not enough; the steer jumps up and pursues the horse. Then the vaquero keeps a little ahead of him and leads him back to the rodeo-ground, where another vaquero lassos him by the hind legs and throws him, while the reata is taken off his neck.'

'There is another danger, too,' added Dr. Winship. 'The vaquero winds the reata very tightly round the pommel of his saddle to hold the steer, and he is likely to have his finger caught in the hair- rope and cut off.'

'Yes, I forgot that. Two or three of the famous old vaqueros about Santa Barbara--Jose Maria, Jose Antonio, and old Clemente--have each lost a finger. Well, the vaqueros at length form in a circle round the band of selected cattle. The ranch owner who gives the rodeo takes his own cattle that he has found--the ones bearing his brand, you know--and drives them in with the ones to be branded, leaving in the rodeo-ground the cattle bearing the brands of all the other rancheros. There has been much drinking of aguardiente (brandy) and everybody by this time is pretty reckless. Then they drive this selected band to the home corral, the vaqueros yelling, the cattle "calling," and the reatas whizzing and whistling through the air. If any unfortunate tries to escape his fate he is pursued, "lass'd," and brought back. By this time the cattle are pretty well heated and angry, and when they get into the crowded corral they horn each other and try to gore the horses. A fire is then built in one corner of the corral and the branding-irons are heated.'

'Oh! hold my hand, Polly, if the branding is going to begin, I hate it so,' exclaimed Elsie.

'I won't say much about it, but it's no worse than a thousand things that people have to bear every year of their lives. Animals never have to have teeth filled, for instance, nor limbs amputated--'

'Oh, just think of a calf with a wooden leg, or a cow with false teeth! Wouldn't it be funny?' laughed Bell.

'They don't have a thousand ills that human flesh is heir to, so they must be thankful they get off so easy. Well! the branding-irons are heated, as I say--each cattle-owner having his special brand, which is properly recorded, and which may be any device not previously used. Two men now catch the calves; one lassoing them by the head, the other by the legs. A third man takes the iron from the fire and brands the chosen letter or hieroglyphic on the animal's hind quarter.'

'Sometimes on the fore quarter, don't they?' asked Bell. 'I've seen brands there,--your horse has two, and our cow has one also.'

'Yes, a brand on the fore quarter shows that the animal has been sold, but it always has the original brand on the hind quarter. When a sale is effected, the new brand is put anywhere in front of the fifth rib, and this constitutes what they call a venta, or sale. If you notice some of the little "plugs" ridden by Santa Barbara boys, you'll see that they bear half a dozen brands. By the way, if the rodeo has been a very large one, they are several days branding the cattle, so they are turned out to pastorear a little while each day.'

'The brand was absolute sign of ownership, you know, girls,' said Dr. Winship; 'and though there was the greatest care exercised in choosing and recording the brands, there was plenty of opportunity for cheating. For instance, a man would often see unbranded cattle when riding about, and there was nothing to prevent his dismounting, building a fire, heating his iron, and putting his own brand on them. Then, at the next rodeo, they were simply turned over to him, for, as I say, the brand was absolute ownership.'

'Whene'er I take my rides abroad,
How many calves I see;
And, as I brand them properly,
They all belong to me,'

said Bell.

'How I should like to see a rodeo!' sighed Elsie. 'I can't imagine how the vaqueros can fling the reata while they are riding at full speed.'

'It isn't so very wonderful,' said Polly, nonchalantly 'the most ordinary people can learn it; why! your brother Jack can lasso almost as well as a Mexican.'

'And I can "lass" any stationary object myself,' cried Bell; 'a hitching-post, or even a door-knob; I can do it two or three times out of ten.'

'That shows immense skill,' answered Jack, 'but, as the thing you want to "lass" never does stay still, and as it is absolutely necessary ............