Men ran to and fro busy and intent.

Sometimes three or four calves were on the ground at once.

Cries arose in a confusion: "Marker" "Hot iron!" "Tally one!" Dust eddied and dissipated.

Behind all were clear sunlight and the organ roll of the cattle bellowing.
Toward the middle of the morning the bull-doggers began to get a little tired.
"No more necked calves," they announced.

"Catch 'em by the hind legs, or bull-dog 'em yourself." And that went.