The measureless plain, dimpled and wrinkled, swept downward toward the flaming eastern sky unmarked of man.

To the west, cut close across their snow tops by the plain's edge, three enormous and snow-armored peaks arose, the sunlight already glittering on the thin, new-fallen snows.
Coyotes, still at vigil on the hills, slid out of sight at the coming of the horsemen.

The prairie dogs peered sleepily from their burrows.
Cattle in scattered bands snuffed and stared or started away hulking, yet swift, the bulls sullen and ferocious, the calves wild as deer.
There were no fences, no furrows, no wagon tracks, no sign of sheep.

It was the cow country in very truth.
On the way Reynolds said very little.

Occasionally as they drew their ponies to a walk he remarked upon the kindliness of the horse, and said, "I hope you'll like my horse as well as I like youah's." It was nearly twelve o'clock when they topped a treeless ridge and came in sight of the round-up.