CORRAL DUST 



loose among the dogs ; squaws grabbed up the younger 

 children, while the older scudded for cover amongst the 

 cottonwoods and tepees. 



"Head 'em off," yelled Sam Thompson — and "head 

 'em off" we did, but some went through the nearest 

 tent. 



"Let's get these pets into the corral," shouted Bill 

 Switzler, and in a few minutes the gate swung in on 

 a dilatory steer and they were corralled. 



Wild Bill Switzler lives most of the time up in the 

 Horse Heaven country. The rest of the time he lives 

 on a horse, when he is not running the Ferry at Uma- 

 tilla. Horse Heaven country? What, never heard of 

 it ? Well, there is lots of country, wonderful unbroken 

 country in Oregon and the West you haven't heard of, 

 besides the John Day and Harney Country you already 

 have heard about. There's Camas Prairie of the In- 

 dians, with its millions of feet of virgin timber await- 

 ing the railroad — may it wait long, — and there's Grant 

 County awaiting settlement. Which leads one to 

 wonder why we Americans don't travel at home a bit 

 and get acquainted with God's country. 



The way through Horse Heaven is only along par- 

 allel cattle trails with drift fences ending nowhere, 

 where man is scarce and the bunchgrass is thick and 

 winter shelter and feed are plentiful. Here the ordin- 

 ary wild bunchgrass grows knee high to a tall 

 Injun. "Rolling in clover" has nothing on this 

 for an equine dream. Here herds led by their stallions 

 practically run wild, never even seen by man sometimes 

 for many months at a time. Horse Heaven, indeed, — 

 you'll find it marked on a good map of Oregon and 

 Washington in the center of a townless fork of country 

 between the Yakima River and the Columbia. 



87 



