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No hoss, no nothin’. Some of th’ boys got to talkin’ ’bout trailin’ back to Texas, tryin’ out some ranchin’ in the bush country. A lotta wild stuff down therenobody’s been runnin’ brands on anythin’ much since ’61. We planned to get a herd of mavericks, drive up into Kansas or Missouri, an’ sell. A couple of th’ boys had run stuff in that way for th’ army, even swum ’em across the Mississippi.

There is a legend of an English regiment that lay by its arms under fire chaunting "Sam Hall," to the horror of its newly appointed and pious colonel. The Black Boneens, who were suffering more than the Mavericks, on a hill half a mile away, began presently to explain to all who cared to listen

"Mace tells the party to take a cinch on his feelin's, an' stampedes over to the Mexican part of camp, which is called Chilili, on a scout for the boy. Whatever do you-all reckon's become of him, son? I'm a wolf if a Mexican ain't somehow cut him out of the herd an' stole him. Takes him in, same as you mavericks a calf.

'An' then, continued Horse Egan, for the peppery Major's peculiarities of speech and manner were as well known as his tanned face; "'an' then, ye dissolute, half-baked, putty-faced scum o' Connemara, if I find a man so much as lookin' confused, begad, I'll coort-martial the whole company. A man that can't get over his liquor in six hours is not fit to belong to the Mavericks!"

From that day dated the mutiny of the Mavericks, to the joy of Mulcahy and the pride of his mother in New York the good lady who sent the money for the beer. Never, so far as words went, was such a mutiny. The conspirators, led by Dan Grady and Horse Egan, poured in daily. They were sound men, men to be trusted, and they all wanted blood; but first they must have beer.

He don't belong to no reg'lar denom'nation. "'That's troo, too, I says. 'Short Creek ain't workin' with no reg'lar religious round-up; he's sorter runnin' a floatin' outfit, criss-crossin' the range, prowlin' for mavericks an' strays on his own game. But what of that? He's shorely tyin' 'em down an' brandin' 'em right along.

There the herd had been held while the neighboring cattlemen engaged in the tedious task of "cutting out" which meant that each cattle owner took from the herd the steers that bore his "brand," with the addition of a proportionate number of unbranded steers, and calves, designated as "mavericks." Then the neighboring outfit had driven their stock home. "It was a big round-up, Kane," said Mrs.

In them days there was a good many sleepers an' mavericks on the range. I expect we used a running-iron right smart when we wasn't sure whose calf it was." He was trying to put the best face on the story. June could see that, and her heart hardened toward him. She ignored the hungry appeal for mercy in his eyes. "You mean you stole cattle. Is that it?"

I've seen that big bay devil pull till th' blood dripped from his mouth." "Sure," put in Masters, "I've seen that, too but I was lyin' up on th' Cup Rim oncet, watchin' a couple mavericks fer funny work, an' Courtrey an' Wylackie Bob come along down that way on Bolt an' Arrow an' they wasn't a-holdin' them then.

The difficulty of their owners identifying them will be understood. Such cattle are mavericks, and whoever comes upon them loses little time in scorching his brand into their shoulders or hips, after which no one cares to dispute their ownership.