For some time Jack had heard low rumblings coming from the bunch of cattle but had paid no attention to them; but now he saw that a couple of big bulls seemed to be making preparations for a fight. One of them was a white-faced red and white animal which might be a grade Durham or Hereford, while the other, solid red in color, looked more like one of the old-fashioned long-horned Texans, or at least what they used to call out in that country a Cherokee. Fifteen years earlier, as Jack had often been told, almost all the cattle in the country were Texas cattle driven up from the south to the plains, and there purchased by the northern cattlemen, taken out to their ranches, fed for a year or two, and then shipped to market. The excellent grazing and the cold winters seemed to make these cattle grow larger and fatter than the Texas cattle were, and they brought good prices in Chicago. Moreover, the calves raised on the northern range were bigger and better than those brought up from the south, and it was not long before the northern cattle owners got into the way of buying herds of Texas cows and grading them up with more or less well-bred bulls. This course made a very great change in the cattle. They grew larger in body, shorter in limb, lost their long horns and became far more like real beef steers than the old Texas long-horns ever were. It was now getting to be almost unusual to see an animal that looked like a Texas long-horn, or even like a Cherokee steer. One of these bulls, however, was of the old type, while the other seemed to represent the new. The two stood facing each other, not very far apart, muttering, moaning, pawing up the dust and throwing it high in the air to fall on their broad backs and roll back to the ground. Presently the short-horned bull went down on his knees and thrust his horns into the earth, and then rose and shook the dirt from his head. The other bull did the same thing, his long horns tearing up a great mass of soil, and when he rose to his feet his shaggy face and head were covered with dirt and sticks picked up from the ground. Slowly the bulls drew nearer to each other, and at length, when but a few feet apart, the red bull sprang forward; the other bent down and lunged to meet him, and their horns came together with a sharp clash. The shock affected neither bull; neither gave back; and for some moments they pushed and pushed against each other, their feet plowing up the soil and the tense corded muscles standing out like ridges on their great hams. The remainder of the herd had drawn off a little to one side. Most of the animals were still feeding or looking off over the prairie, heeding the battle not at all, but a little fringe of cows and young stock on the edge of the herd faced the fighting bulls and looked at them with mild interest. Jack and Joe watched the fight eagerly. "The chances are all in favor of the big bull," declared Joe. "He's got the weight and he'll win out."