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in their 'milling,' that is, swimming in a circle, and if allowed to continue, would result in the drowning of many. There the daring herder must leave his pony, doff his tops, scramble over their backs and horns to scatter them, and with whoops and yells, splashing, dashing, and didoes in the water, scare them to the opposite bank. This is not always done in a moment for a steer is no fool of a swimmer; I have seen one hold his own for six hours in the Gulf after having jumped overboard. As some of the streams are very rapid, and a quarter to half a mile wide, considerable drifting is done. Then the naked herder has plenty of amusement in the hot sun, fighting green-head flies and mosquitoes, and peeping around for Indians, until the rest of the layout is put over not an easy job. A temporary boat has to be made of the wagon-box, by taking the canvas cover over the bottom, with which the ammunition and grub is ferried across, and the running-gear and ponies have swum over afterward. Indian fights and horse-thief troubles are part of the regular rations. Mixing with other herds and cutting them out, again avoiding too much water at times, and hunting for a drop at others, belongs to the regular routine.

"Buffalo chips for wood a great portion of the way (poor substitute in wet weather) and the avoiding of praise fires, later on, vary the monotony. In fact, it would fill a book to give a detailed account of a single trip, and it is no wonder the boys are hilarious when it ends, and, like the old troper, swear 'no more for me,' only to return and go through the mill again.

"How many, through never finish, but mark the trial with their silent graves, no one can tell. But when Gabriel toots his horn, the 'Chisholm Trail' will swarm with cowboys. 'Howsomever, we'll all be that." let's hope for a happy trip, when we say to this planet, aidios!

"J. B. OMORUNDRO (TEXAS JACK)."

THE VAQUERO OF THE SOUTHWEST.

Between the "cow-boy" and the "vaquero", there is only a slight line of degradation. The one is usually an American, inured from boyhood to the excitements and hardships of his life, and the other represents in his life, and the other represents in his blood the stock of the Mexican, or it may be of the half-breed.

In their work, the methods of the two are similar; and, to a certain extent, the same

in their 'milling,' that is, swimming in a circle, and if allowed to continue, would result in the drowning of many. There the daring herder must leave his pony, doff his tops, scramble over their backs and horns to scatter them, and with whoops and yells, splashing, dashing, and didoes in the water, scare them to the opposite bank. This is not always done in a moment for a steer is no fool of a swimmer; I have seen one hold his own for six hours in the Gulf after having jumped overboard. As some of the streams are very rapid, and a quarter to half a mile wide, considerable drifting is done. Then the naked herder has plenty of amusement in the hot sun, fighting green-head flies and mosquitoes, and peeping around for Indians, until the rest of the layout is put over not an easy job. A temporary boat has to be made of the wagon-box, by taking the canvas cover over the bottom, with which the ammunition and grub is ferried across, and the running-gear and ponies have swum over afterward. Indian fights and horse-thief troubles are part of the regular rations. Mixing with other herds and cutting them out, again avoiding too much water at times, and hunting for a drop at others, belongs to the regular routine.

"Buffalo chips for wood a great portion of the way (poor substitute in wet weather) and the avoiding of praise fires, later on, vary the monotony. In fact, it would fill a book to give a detailed account of a single trip, and it is no wonder the boys are hilarious when it ends, and, like the old troper, swear 'no more for me,' only to return and go through the mill again.

"How many, through never finish, but mark the trial with their silent graves, no one can tell. But when Gabriel toots his horn, the 'Chisholm Trail' will swarm with cowboys. 'Howsomever, we'll all be that." let's hope for a happy trip, when we say to this planet, aidios!

"J. B. OMORUNDRO (TEXAS JACK)."

THE VAQUERO OF THE SOUTHWEST.

Between the "cow-boy" and the "vaquero", there is only a slight line of degradation. The one is usually an American, inured from boyhood to the excitements and hardships of his life, and the other represents in his life, and the other represents in his blood the stock of the Mexican, or it may be of the half-breed.

In their work, the methods of the two are similar; and, to a certain extent, the same