Every poem carries a breath of plains, wind-flavored with a tang of camp smoke; and, varied as they are in tune and tone, they do not contain a single note that is labored or unnatural. They are of native Western stock, as indigenous to the soil as the agile cow ponies whose hoofs evidently beat the time for their swinging measures; and it is this quality, as well as their appealing music, that has already given them such wide popularity, East and West. That they were born in the saddle and written for love rather than for publication is a conviction that the reader of them can hardly escape. From the impish merriment of _From Town_ to the deep but fearless piety of _The Cowboy's Prayer_, these songs ring true; and are as healthy as the big, bright country whence they came. In 1917, about the time our first edition of _Sun and Saddle Leather_ began to run low, we fortunately discovered L. A. Huffman, of Miles City, Montana, the illustrator who in 1878 began taking photographs from the saddle with crude cameras he made over to meet his needs. These same views were the first of the now famous "Huffman Pictures," beginning with the Indians and buffaloes round about Ft. Keogh on the Yellowstone where he was post photographer for General Miles' army during those stirring territorial days. The Huffman Studio is still one of the show places of Miles City, and the sales headquarters also for Montana and adjacent states for both of Mr. Clark's books, _Sun and Saddle Leather_ and _Grass Grown Trails_. In a recent letter Mr. Huffman says, "I have just come back from a trip to 'Powder River' and along the Wyoming-Montana border. It's all too true! Clark saw and wrote it none too soon in _The Passing of the Trail_." The trail's a lane, the trail's a lane. Dead is the branding fire. The prairies wild are tame and mild All close-corralled with wire. The sunburnt demigods who ranged And laughed and loved so free Have topped the last divide, or changed To men like you and me. CONTENTS PAGE