So, as Jim had lighted the fire, we branded the little red heifer calf first--a fine fat six-months-old nugget she was--and then three bull calves, all strangers, and then Polly's calf, I suppose just for a blind.

Jim and I knew the four calves were all strangers, but we didn't know the brands of the mothers; they all seemed different.
After this all was made right to kill a beast.

The gallows was ready rigged in a corner of the yard; father brought his gun and shot the yellow steer.

The calves were put into our calf-pen--Polly's and all--and all the cows turned out to go where they liked.
We helped father to skin and hang up the beast, and pretty late it was when we finished.

Mother had laid us out our tea and gone to bed with Aileen.