|Ways and Habits of the West|
Sixteen hands high and a half, a bay,|
I remember well that branding day,
Jumped our corral like a steeplechase course--
"If he ever can be broke, then that's my horse."
Old Fox had wind and the strength to last,
As a cutting horse he was unsurpassed.
The great regret of my life, no doubt--
He was ten years old when I sold out.
Of all the horses in Dakota,
To improve our herds we fenced the range.