There were three barber-shops, to which went only the very weary.

The corral of the Cottage, where the drovers stopped, was large enough to hold two hundred horses, with comfortable space for roping, and the snubbing post was grooved with the wear of many ropes.

The central street needed no paving, for it was worn hard as flint.

Long rows of cattle chutes lined the railroad yards, whence came continuous din of bellowing, crowding, maddened cattle, handled with ease and a certain exultation by men who had studied nothing but this thing.

Horsemen clattered up and down the street day and night--riding, whether drunk or sober, with the incomparable confidence of the greatest horse country the world has ever known.