The average person outside of Texas and the southwest and some of the western states has a mental picture, perhaps, of the Texas steer of the long-horn variety. Those who lived thirty or forty years ago, even in the East, remember him as a member of the quadruped family consisting largely of horn, for it was not an infrequent thing to see him in a cattle car on a sidetrack. He was, as a matter of fact, also entitled to a reputation for his legs, for they were unusually long. His body, too, was slim, and he never was fat for the reason that while free to roam the ranges at will he devoted most of his time to using his horns in goring his mates and neglected to eat. He raced about from place to place, whereas, if he had no horns he would have been a peaceful animal and consequently much more valuable for the market. The old-time Texas steer often was as fleet-footed as a Kentucky racehorse of the thoroughbred variety, and it took a good horse to catch him when he made up his mind to run. Nevertheless, thousands of these Texas steers were broken to yoke, and used in overland transportation; and once broken they were good workers, even though their horns were always in the way, and the cause of a great deal of trouble in a herd. While I have no authority for the statement, I believe practical dehorning began with the bullwhackers of the plains, for they frequently bored holes in the horns which in a few weeks caused the horns to drop off. Then it was noted that if the dehorned cattle were kept separate from those with horns, the dehorned ones, even when working hard every day, took on flesh and were better workers. Finally nearly all the work-oxen were dehorned, and they were as meek and quiet as lambs. The whacker always began his orders to his bulls in a low tone, increasing it as the necessity for action presented itself, and ending in a string of oaths that would make an old-time Mississippi steamboat mate ashamed of his reputation. Frequently teams were stalled on a high hill or in the sand, when it would be necessary to gee the team of seven yokes at an almost right angle, with chains between each yoke slackened and with "wheelers" filling their yokes. Then the whacker would walk out half way to his leaders and soothingly coax them to come haw--toward him--on a trot, until all the chains between the other yokes were tightened. By this time, however, Mr. Whacker was back to his wheelers, perhaps punching the near one in the ribs, and then throwing his eighteen or twenty foot lash over the backs of any of the yokes that were not clawing the sand properly. In this way the men often worked for days at a time, making sometimes only a few rods by each repetition of the operation. Then again, the wagon boss would order a doubling-up process and two whackers and fourteen yokes of oxen would work on one pair of wagons, taking them along perhaps a mile, and then returning, repeat the process until the bad road was left behind.