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She gave several longing glances to where Papoose was staked out, on the further side of the schoolhouse, and began to walk.

She kept on walking, her back to the school, her face to the roundup, until she was as near to the one as the other. When the bell rang to call the others in, she calculated that it was too late for her to get there in time—she might as well go on. She walked faster, and finally began to run.

It was a general roundup of everybody’s cattle. The C Bar C outfit was there, but Clarke Capadine was back at the schoolhouse, sitting on a bench, singing the multiplication table—they always had that after morning recess. Kenny Tazewell, of the Quien Sabe—Kenny was big enough to help some, and his papa almost always let him come. But he also was slaving at the multiplication table. There would be no one to divide the glory of the roundup with her. She went forward more resolutely.

Uncle Hank was at the chuck wagon. He wasn’t a bit surprised to see her.

“Miss Belle let ye off all right, did she?” he inquired casually, and Hilda didn’t even have to answer, for he turned and hurried down to the branding pen where the men were laboring like demons to keep up with the cutters and handlers.