s as the Lincoln Highway is improved there will be dignified
boundary stones erected to mark the State lines.

Evanston is a pleasant little town 6300 feet high. Near Evanston is the
Chapman Ranch, where many thousands of sheep are handled. We stopped in
Evanston only a few minutes and then drove on through delightful desert
country, open and rolling, grey-green and blue in its coloring. The
Wyoming desert has a sharper and more vivid coloring than that of
Nevada. The tableland is more rolling and the mountains are farther
away. It is a wonderful sheep country, but the flocks are at present in
the mountain ranges. Later, as the autumn comes on and cold falls upon
their mountain pastures, the herders will bring them down to these
plains over which we are passing.

Mr. Dudley of Alpine Ranch told us that should we visit the ranch in
autumn we would find the whole valley covered with sheep. We heard much
"sheep talk" in Nevada and Wyoming. We learned about the "shad scale"
which the sheep eat, and about certain kinds of sage brush that are very
nutritious. Mr. Dudley had pointed out to us a low-growing white plant,
somewhat like the "dusty miller" of our childhood, that is extremely
nutritious for cattle.

[Illustration: 1. Prairie Schooners, Westward Bound. 2. Lincoln Highway
Sign in the Desert. 3. Sheep in the Wyoming Desert.]

Here and there on the desert we see fine bunches of beef cattle, feeding
in little oases; green, damp stretches of country in the midst of an
ocean of sage brush.

Now and then we pass a cattleman or a sheepman riding with that easy
give of the body which is so graceful and so characteristic of Western
horsemen. I know nothing like it, save the easy posture of those
immortal youths who ride forever in the procession of the Elgin marbles
in the British Museum. They have the same graceful easing of the body to
the motion of the horse, and give the same impression of the harmony of
horse and rider. Often we pass white, closely plastered log houses, just
such as we saw in Nevada. We see white canopied wagons in the barnyards
of almost every ranch house, just as in eastern Nevada. These people
think nothing of traveling long distances in their prairie schooners
with their supplies for roadside camping at night. They travel in their
wagons to pay visits, to transact business and to buy supplies, and make
long journeys in the summer months.

The smell of the sage brush, pungent and aromatic, is in