A
wooden toggle was fastened with rawhide to its neck, so it would trail
between its forelegs, to prevent running, when the wild maverick was
freed and allowed to enter the herd. After a week or ten days, if an
animal showed any disposition to quiet down, it was again thrown,
branded, and the toggle removed. We corralled the little herd every
night, adding to it daily, scouting far and wide for unowned or wild
cattle. But when other outfits came up or down the valley of the Clear
Fork we joined forces with them, tendering our corrals for branding
purposes, our rake-off being the mavericks and eligible strays. Many
a fine quarter of beef was left at our cabin by passing ranchmen, and
when the gathering ended we had a few over five hundred cattle for our
time and trouble.
Fine weather favored us and we held the mavericks under herd until
late in December. The wild ones gradually became gentle, and with
constant handling these wild animals were located until they would
come in of their own accord for the privilege of sleeping in a corral.
But when winter approached the herd was turned free, that the cattle
might protect themselves from storms, and we gathered our few effects
together and started for the settlements. It was with reluctance that
I left that primitive valley. Somehow or other, primal conditions
possessed a charm for me which, coupled with an innate love of the
land and the animals that inhabit it, seemed to influence and outline
my future course of life.
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