The garb of the cowboy is now one of white alkali which hangs gray in his eyebrows and moustache.

Steers bellow as they surge to and fro.

Cows charge on their persecutors.

Fleet yearlings break and run for the open, pursued by men who care not how or where they ride.
We have spoken in terms of the past.

There is no calf round-up of the open range today.