hash, which sits in pans and skillets, and then crossing their legs they sit down upon their feet. This is the cow-boys’ seat; and when they come into a house where there are plenty of chairs they squat to the floor upon their own seats. Hot or cold, sunshine or storm, the greater part of the year they sleep and dine upon the wild, unsheltered plain. They are so used to it, though, that they think nothing of it, and stand out in the storm eating their biscuit and broiled beef with unqualified relish. They move their loose ponies from place to place in a herd--each boy having his own particular riding-horses. When camped they hobble the leaders, and the rest will not leave. The hobble is made by taking a piece of cow-hide about three feet long and two inches wide, tying a knot in one end, and cutting a loop in the other. This is put around one leg, above the pasture-joint, and then twisted and looped around the other. The twist keeps the hobble from working down, and the horse does not get around fast nor leave camp far unless stampeded by Indians or wild horses; and even in this case they are easily captured. Some of the ponies are very shy, and when the boys want fresh horses they tie a rope to a wagon-wheel, and a boy holds the other end. The others then drive the herd up to this and throw the noose over the heads of the wanted ones. They are so used to this rope that they will not attempt to cross one if it is but knee high. All idle mules are always hobbled; for the cow-boys say “a mule is hell in a stampede.” The boys of course do their own washing; and they usually keep pretty clean, with the exception of a few gray-backs, which are their warmest bosom and inseparable friends. Some companies have as high as seventy-five or a hundred men employed during the work-season; and about the first of December they discharge about half of them until spring, keeping the best men over winter, and _they_ are scattered over the ranges among the little lonely shanties to watch over the cows during winter. They are compelled to keep some men who understand the business and the country, and then they can make use of _some_ greenhorns. But oh! how those cow-boys curse the tender-feet. They usually try to get them upon a pony that understands bucking, to get their necks broken or disable them in some way or other to get them out of the way. There is no better fun than to get a big, clumsy tender-foot upon a well-trained cow-pony. He goes dodging along like a monkey, holding to the saddle-horn, with his stirrups shortened up and his knees under his chin, gaping in every direction. Pretty soon a steer dashes from the herd; the pony, quick as a flash, springs after him to round him in. The steer dodges; the pony braces, whirls upon his hind feet, and starts off in another direction, with the tender-foot hanging upon his side with one foot fast in the stirrup, the other leg wrapped around the saddle-horn, and holding to the mane with both hands.