In the corral, at its farther end, stood, by an oven, a tall muscular
Indian, the most famous brander in that part of the country. He was
stripped to the waist, and as the first steer was driven through the
narrow gate, he plucked a red-hot iron from the coals. The beast,
kicking and bellowing, was flung to the ground by a dexterous twist of
his tail, two more Indians held him in position, and the branding was
accomplished.
Almost before he was up another was prostrate; and they followed each
other in such rapid succession that the wonder was some were not branded
twice. As fast as each brute received his mark he was driven out of
another gate and over the hills, lest his ill-nature should be the cause
of wild disorder.
The vaqueros handled their dangerous charges with admirable skill,
keeping those to be branded in groups of a hundred or more at some
distance from the corral, riding round them constantly with peremptory
shouts. Other vaqueros, belonging to the same herd, segregated the
animals immediately required and drove them in a straight line for the
corral. There was not a moment of pause. The vaqueros, the brander, and
his assistants seemed impervious to fatigue; the cattle, shifting
uneasily in their bands, leaped eagerly from the lines at the first
signal from the vaquero bearing down on them like a fury from the
corral.
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