When a blizzard came my cattle had to travel, and the continued travelling backwards and forwards kept the blood in circulation.

There were a few cases of horns, feet, ears and mammae frozen off, but I never had a cow frozen to death and never lost any directly from the severity of the weather.

More than that, I never fed a pound of hay.
Our name for calves that had lost their mothers, and therefore the nourishment obtained from milk, was "dogies." These dogies were ever afterwards unmistakable in appearance, and remained stunted, "runty" little animals of no value.

Yet, if taken up early enough and fed on nourishing diet, they would develop into as large and well-grown cattle as their more fortunate fellows.[2] [Footnote 2: Appendix, Note III.] My foreman was an ordinary cowboy, but he was a thorough cattleman, had already been in my employ for seven years, and his "little peculiarities" were pretty well known to me.

He became desperately jealous of his position (as foreman), resenting interference.