But I can't help breaking out sometimes when I hear the birds calling to one another as they fly over the yard, and know it's fresh air and sun and green grass outside that I never shall see again.

Never see the river rippling under the big drooping trees, or the cattle coming down in the twilight to drink after the long hot day.
Never, never more! And whose fault is it?
Who have I to blame?
Perhaps father helped a bit; but I knew better, and no one is half as much to blame as myself.
Where were we?
Oh, at the cave-mouth, coming out with our bridles in our hands to catch our horses.

We soon did that, and then we rode away to the other cattle.

They were a queer lot, in fine condition, but all sorts of ages and breeds, with every kind of brand and ear-mark.
Lots of the brands we didn't know, and had never heard of.

Some had no brands at all--full-grown beasts, too; that was a thing we had very seldom seen.