When once you have had the wind knocked out of you, or a rib or two broken, you cease to think this unnecessarily rough.

Then one or the other threw off the rope.
Homer rode away, coiling the rope as he went.
"Hot iron!" yelled one of the bull-doggers.
"Marker!" yelled the other.
Immediately two men ran forward.

The brander pressed the iron smoothly against the flank.

A smoke and the smell of scorching hair arose.
Perhaps the calf blatted a little as the heat scorched.

In a brief moment it was over.