The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-11-20

to, don't you seer
"Eh, what7"
81 read in one OF your books that
when COWS had been branded with
the same brand year after year-no,
generation after generation-their
calves would be born with that brand,
and there it isl"
Mr.. Simpson's~~b brand was circle
and bar.
"WelI, that does look like 1t, and
it's right on the place where l always
brand"
Miss Murphy's side was entirely
brown, except for the white circle and
stripe on it.
Don't brand her and see if her
calf will have that mark, suggested
John.
"All right. Let her up, boys"
said his uncle. wishing to humor the
weak boy. i : .---. =
Looks as much like a fay jack
pan as anything" said Dan. "You
can get up, Miss Murphy"
"Yes, and there are the flap jacks
spilled all over the other side of il"
said Frank, pointing to some white
spots as the calf scampered to It's
mother.
Old Murphy did not know just why
it was; she knew her calf had escaped
branding and associating the good
luck with John, came up and rubbed
her nose against his arm.
Three weeks later the cattle were
driven down to the ranch, which was
now ready to receive them. The
grain had been harvested, the alfalfa
gathered and stacked out of reach.
John accompanied his uncle and
cousins. The range was twelve miles
from the ranch and it was afternoon
before the cattle we're sorted out and
gathered together, Then the home
ward journ1 asgan and slow, tedi-
Gus journey it proved; mile after
mile of dry, hard ground, covered
only by cactus, Spanish needles and
tufts of wild sage; then an occasional
dug-ou was seen in the deep, irrigat-
ing bitches from the mountains.
With great difficulty the cattle were
prevented from plunging in, damag-
ing the bitches and drowning them
selves. Finally, fences were met; the
trail ran into a road; mile farther
on the road was crossed by shallow
stream and there the cattle we're al
lowed to wade in and drink.
Miss Murphy did not follow her
mother. Though the cattle had
Jagged all the way, she, the Youngest
and weakest, had found it hard to
keep up and now that her mother had
stopped in the stream, she lay down
on the bank, too tired even to drink.
Old Murphy drank her fill, emerged
on the other side of the stream and
called; but her calf did not follow.
"She's just all played out, Uncle
George" said John. Let's put her
in the wagon"
"She'd jump out and break her
neck, most likely"
"Then I'll sit in the back and hold
her."
eff we had an extra rope or strap
we could tie her up. Put her in,
boys" said Mr.. Simpson, land see if
she'll travel that way"
The boys dismounted, picked up
Miss Murphy and placed her in the
spring wagon. The calf soon became
contented and settled down, with her
head resting on Johns lap.
The cattle travelled better after they
left the stream, but it was dark be-
fore they turned into the cattleyard
at home.
The trip proved too much for John.
He was restless and could not sleep;
the next day he felt nervous, blue
and homesick. Miss Murphy was lone
ly, too. The calves had been left in
the yard, while the COWS had been
driven for the day to field at the
end of the ranch. To be sure, there
were trees and sheds in the cattle
yard, and plenty to eat, and one end
of the yard ran down to a creek
quite paradise beside Rocky Flat.
But Miss Murphy was not satisfied,
and kept up an incessant bawling for
her mother.
She followed John when be came
into the yard and threw himself down
on some loose HAY In one of the
sheds.
"It's tough to be away from your
mother, isn't it, Miss Murphyi" John
said, as he patted the calf. Il know
inst how it is. You can have every