A number of years ago I was engaged
in cattle-ranching on the great plains of the western United States.
There were no fences. The cattle wandered free, the ownership of each
being determined by the brand; the calves were branded with the brand
of the cows they followed. If on the round-up an animal was passed by,
the following year it would appear as an unbranded yearling, and was
then called a maverick. By the custom of the country these mavericks
were branded with the brand of the man on whose range they were found.
One day I was riding the range with a newly hired cowboy, and we came
upon a maverick. We roped and threw it; then we built a little fire,
took out a cinch-ring, heated it at the fire; and the cowboy started
to put on the brand. I said to him, "It is So-and-so's brand," naming
the man on whose range we happened to be. He answered: "That's all
right, boss; I know my business." In another moment I said to him,
"Hold on, you are putting on my brand!" To which he answered, "That's
all right; I always put on the boss's brand." I answered, "Oh, very
well. Now you go straight back to the ranch and get what is owing to
you; I don't need you any longer." He jumped up and said: "Why, what's
the matter? I was putting on your brand." And I answered: "Yes, my
friend, and if you will steal _for_ me you will steal _from_ me.
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