A RANCHMAN'S RECOLLECTIONS 



they ran the blood into tankage then or not, but 

 have a vague memory that it went into the sewer. 

 What has followed in the wake of the primitive 

 initial move in animal fertilizer production and use, 

 in comparison with what is being accomplished now, 

 and the greater saving from using what originally 

 went into tankage, will come in for later comment. 



Whittaker's boys were my playmates and chums. 

 On Saturdays we often went to the packinghouse. 

 On one of these visits an incident occurred which has 

 been vital in relation to some of my subsequent 

 studies in breeding. They were killing quite a string 

 of aged Texas steers, using a sharp lance, and strik- 

 ing behind the horrre. We saw them lance a big 

 fellow, with the usual result: a quick fall, the trap 

 door opened, and he was dragged to the skinning 

 beds. When the knife was at his throat he jumped, 

 with one bound, to his feet, saw daylight through a 

 door at the rear, jumped a story and a half to the 

 ground, swam the Missouri River to a sandbar one- 

 quarter of a mile distant, shook himself and turned 

 his head to the shore, at bay. In later years Texas 

 steers running amuck in the Kansas City bottoms 

 charged cable cars, head on. 



I am sure that the wonderful vitality of the prim- 

 itive Longhorn, backed by self-reliance and the 

 hustling qualities of the Hereford, blended with the 

 old Spanish blood, has served as a kind of iron basis 

 for the well-bred bovine stocks in Texas today. This 



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