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experience in the cattle country I had traveled every known trail, and
over immense stretches of country where there was no sign of a trail,
nothing but the wide expanse of prairie; bare except for the buffalo
grass, with here and there a lone tree or a giant cactus standing as a
lone sentinel in the wildest of long stretches of grazing land rolling
away in billows of hill and gully, like the waves of the ocean. Likewise
I could read, identify and place every brand or mark placed on a horse
or steer between the Gulf of Mexico and the borders of Canada, on the
North and from Missouri to California. Over this stretch of country I
have often traveled with herds of horses or cattle or in searching for
strays or hunting the noble buffalo on his own native feeding grounds.
The great buffalo slaughter commenced in the west in 1874, and in 1877
they had become so scarce that it was a rare occasion when you came
across a herd containing more than fifty animals where before you could
find thousands in a herd. Many things were responsible for the
slaughter, but the principal reason that they had now become so scarce
was that in 1875 and 1876 the Indians started to kill them in large
numbers for their skins. Thousands were killed by them, skinned and the
carcasses left as food for the wolves and vultures of the prairie. Many
were killed by the white hunters to furnish meat for the railroad
graders and the troups at the frontier forts.

[Illustration: "Does the Wild Cow Boy Work With You?"]

While the big cattle ranches were always kept well supplied with buffalo
meat, on the stock of my rifle is one hundred and twenty-six notches,
each one representing a fine buffalo that has fallen to my own hand,
while some I have killed with the knife and 45 colts, I forgot to cut a
notch for. Buffalo hunting, a sport for kings, thy time has passed.
Where once they roamed by the thousands now rises the chimney and the
spire, while across their once peaceful path now thunders the iron
horse, awakening the echoes far and near with bell and whistle, where
once could only be heard the sharp crack of the rifle or the long
doleful yelp of the coyote. At the present time the only buffalo to be
found are in the private parks of a few men who are preserving them for
pleasure or profit.

With the march of progress came the railroad and no longer were we
called upon to follow the long horned steers or mustangs on the trail,
while the immense cattle r