A LESSON IN ROPING
The next day was devoted to cutting cattle and branding calves, and
Jack told Donald that this was his chance to practise roping. Jack very
hospitably, since Donald was to be the guest of his uncle, gave him his
own rope which was in excellent condition, and provided himself with a
second one, which had been used only a few times and so was somewhat
hard and stiff. Donald was much interested in the work, and anxious to
see how it was done, and Jack promised that, so far as he could, he
would look after him, and coach him in the work of catching calves.
"But you'll have to look out for yourself and do the best you can,"
he added, "for there is no time for school-work on the round-up. Very
likely you'll make lots of breaks, and the fellows will make lots of
fun of you; but that you'll have to stand. They're all good-natured,
but everybody that makes a mistake or blunder gets laughed at in a cow
camp. It isn't likely that you'll be able to catch calves by their
feet. What you'd better do for a starter is to try and catch 'em by
their necks, and not throw 'em, but just sort of lead and drag 'em over
to where the boys are."
"All right," agreed Donald; "I suppose that's the best thing that I
can do. I don't understand this business of catching animals by their
feet, and you'll have to tell me about that, before long. I'll try to
catch them by the neck, and lead them over; but I haven't a great deal
of confidence that I'll do much with it."
The men who were cutting that morning were Charley Powell, Jack Danvers
and Jack Mason. Before long it happened that Jack drove a cow and calf
over toward the Sturgis bunch, and as Donald was nearby Jack beckoned
to him.
"Put your rope on the calf and lead it over to the fire," he called as
Donald rode up.
Donald made ready to catch the calf and, though a little slow, he made
a good throw before the calf was near the bunch; but unfortunately the
loop was so large that the calf jumped through it and was following its
mother into the Sturgis herd when Jack, shaking with laughter, threw
his rope, caught the calf by the feet and started it for the fire.
Donald, much mortified, slowly gathered up his rope and overtook Jack
before he had reached the fire.
"That must have seemed a pretty stupid thing to you, but what was the
matter?" he asked.
"Why," explained Jack, "your loop was too big, and the beast ran
through it. If you had had experience enough you would have seen that
your loop was too big, and that it was going beyond the calf's head,
and by jerking up your throwing hand you could have stopped the loop
so that it would have fallen just over the calf's head, and it would
have run against the noose with its chest and been caught. Usually
you can get right close to a calf and then throw with a small loop
and a rather short rope; but, as I tell you, this is all a matter of
practise."
"I am going to watch you," said Donald, "and the next time you cut a
calf out, I will try it over again."
"That's right," declared Jack. "If you stay with it you will certainly
get there."
But Donald had to learn the lessons of experience. With the next calf
that he tried to rope he did better, but, being unable to control his
rope properly, the calf's head and forefeet went through the loop. He
threw up his hand too late and caught the beast around the middle, and
it gave as lively an exhibition of bucking as a three-month-old calf
could furnish. The cow had gone on into the bunch and Jack was watching
her, and, fearing lest she should turn about and come out to fight, he
put his string over the calf's head and led and dragged it to the fire
while Donald meekly followed at the other end of his rope.
The boys at the fire shrieked with laughter when they saw what had
happened, and declared that they would not cast the rope loose; while
Donald did not know how to free it.
"Just put that rope under the iron here, and we'll mark it for keeps,"
one boy shouted.
Donald made no response except to smile and shake his head. He took it
all very good-naturedly, and when his rope was turned loose gathered it
up and again helped Jack drive the calf to the bunch.
"That's all right," said Jack. "You are improving; but you have got to
keep on practising. It does not take one day nor one year to make a man
a good roper. Now I am no roper myself, and yet I have been doing it
pretty nearly every summer for the last five or six years."
Donald's third trial was successful. He rode up pretty near to the calf
and threw with a short rope and, catching the beast, he turned his
horse and dragged the calf up to the fire. When he got there he was
received by the boys with more laughter and louder shouts than before.
They declared that this could not be Donald; that it must be some one
else disguised to resemble him, for it was perfectly well known that
Donald never caught calves except around the middle.
Jack, however, was greatly delighted with his new friend's success, and
congratulated him warmly on the progress that he was making.
All through the morning they worked hard and all were glad when dinner
time came and there was a chance for a little rest. Most of the men
saddled fresh horses and those holding the herds were relieved and had
an opportunity to get something to eat. Jack and Donald were sent out
to hold the Sturgis bunch, and while they were out there, and a little
later when they pushed the cattle off to one side to feed, Donald asked
Jack to tell him something more about the art of roping.
"You men here catch your calves by the feet, and I've heard," said
Donald, "that there are men who can catch any foot of a running animal,
if you ask them to. That seems perfectly impossible to me; and in
fact it seems to me impossible that anybody could catch the feet of a
running animal, but of course I've seen it done to-day."
"Yes," replied Jack, "it is done all the time. It is easy enough to
catch an animal by his fore feet, or his hind feet, or by one fore foot
or one hind foot, but I am not enough of a roper, and I don't believe I
ever shall be, to pick up any foot when I am asked to."
"Well, I can't expect you to tell me how to do things that you say you
cannot do yourself, but I would like to understand how to catch an
animal by the feet."
Jack laughed.
"Why, that's like most other things in the world: awful simple when you
know how to do it, or even how it is done. You just throw your rope so
that the animal steps into it either with his hind feet or with his
fore feet, as the case may be, but you've got to pull your rope just at
the right time. That is to say, if the beast puts his fore feet into
the noose lying on the ground, and you leave the noose lying there, why
the critter won't get caught. You've got to give a lift and pull on
your rope just at the right moment."
"That seems simple enough," declared Donald; "or at least it seems as
if it would be simple enough to a man who knows how to rope."
"Yes," said Jack, "but it takes some judgment. You've got to put your
rope in the right place, and then, as I said, you've got to pull on
it at the right time. You may see boys catching animals by any foot
before we get through this round-up, and it is constantly done on the
prairie with horses that are mean. If you want to learn how to rope,
and to see roping well done, you'd better watch Vicente, or Tulare
Joe, who was raised in California with the Mexicans there. He handles a
rope better than anybody else in the camp, except Vicente and Juan who
are Mexicans. As for Charley Powell and Jack Mason and myself, we are
just plain ordinary ropers that can catch horses and cows most of the
time but can't do any fancy tricks with a rope the way those Mexicans
can. I've seen one or two Mexicans do things with a rope that made my
eyes stick out about a foot; but some Americans are pretty good. They
tell of a man down on the plains--in Nebraska, I believe--who once when
roping calves in a corral, caught and took to the fire a hundred and
ten calves in a hundred and ten throws. He didn't miss a single throw."
"I should like to see something of that kind; but for the present I
guess plain roping will occupy my attention. There is another thing I
want to ask you. Are the Indians good ropers?"
"Fair," answered Jack, "but nothing to brag of--nothing great. They do
as well as any of us ordinary cowboys. There is an interesting thing
about that--something that Hugh once told me--that a good many years
ago, when Hugh first came into the country--that was in 1849--the
Indians could hardly rope at all. All the same they used to catch lots
of wild horses by just running them down. The country then was full of
wild horses. In the spring when the wild horses were poor and weak, the
Indians used to take their best horses and start out and find a bunch
of the wild horses and chase them as hard as they could, and finally
catch them. But they did not know how to rope them. They used to make
big hoops of willows and tie the noose of the rope to such a hoop
with small strings; then when they had run down an animal, so that they
could ride up alongside of it, they would pass the hoop over its head
and pull back on the rope; the strings which tied it to the hoop would
break, the noose would run up, and the animal could be choked down.
[Illustration: BRANDING IN THE CORRAL.--_Page 170_
_Photo by Mrs. A. C. Stokes, Lame Deer, Mont._]
"Of course, they could never catch good horses; those that they got
were mostly colts or mares heavy with foal, and animals that were
particularly weak from lack of food and the winter's cold.
"The Indians that I've seen did not appear to me to handle their
horses very well, and they have no more feeling for a horse than they
have for a saddle or a travois. They never consider that a horse has
any feelings: it is simply a tool to help them get about and to bear
burdens. The Indians are really kind-hearted, but my notion is they
just don't happen to think of the suffering they may cause the horse.
Indians are kind to each other and to their friends, but I don't think
you could call them kind to animals."
"I suppose that is a matter of education," suggested Donald.
"I suppose so," answered Jack. "Besides that, when you are all the time
struggling with an animal, or a lot of animals, and trying to make them
do something that you want them to do, and that they don't understand,
you get kind o' mad at them because they don't mind you. You forget
that they don't understand, and you are likely to be brutal to them.
Now, for example, I was thinking to-day that it would be a good idea
for you, after you get to know how to use a rope a little better, to
practise on some of these cows, catching them and throwing them, but I
don't suppose a cow very much enjoys being thrown, and it is a question
which is the more important, for you to have practise in throwing cows,
or to spare the cow the grief of being thrown. I don't suppose it is
very pleasant for an animal running at full speed to be checked up and
made to turn a somersault and hit the ground like a thousand of--beef
we'll say."
"No," Donald said slowly; "I guess not; and I think the question you
have suggested is rather a nice one."
"Well, we needn't worry about that. There will be plenty of chances for
you to practise on cows before long; and meantime you've got to learn
to catch calves."
The boys had an idle, easy time watching this bunch of cattle which was
constantly being added to by animals cut out from the big bunch. Before
evening all the cattle had been separated and Jack and Donald rode back
to the camp together.
Supper over, the boys sat about the fire lazily smoking and talking.
After a while there was a pause, which was presently broken by McIntyre.
"I met one of the boys from the Bar Lazy A to-day when I was riding. He
was going back to the ranch. Said he had been sent in with a message
and spent a day or two in town. I asked him if he had seen anything of
Claib Wood, and he said yes, he met him a couple of nights ago; that
Claib was full, and looked as if he were hunting trouble. Then he said
the next day they had quite a little excitement in town--let's see,
Mason, that must have been about the time you were there. Did you hear
of any excitement?"
Mason had looked up quickly when McIntyre began to speak and then
lowered his eyes and was looking at the fire.
"Why, no, Mac," he replied; "I didn't see anything that excited me very
much. The town seemed about as usual--dogs lying in the sun, asleep;
two or three men reading a month-old newspaper; lots of flies buzzing
in the windows; passenger comes in once a day going east, once a day
going west, and freight trains happen along occasionally. Not much
excitement in town."
At this answer, the usually grave McIntyre slapped his thigh and burst
into a loud guffaw.
"Bully for you, Jack Mason!" he cried. "You've got some sense of humor,
darned if you ain't. Why, boys," he went on, addressing the group,
"this is what Red Casey of the Bar Lazy A told me. He said that the
other morning--meaning the morning Jack Mason here got to town--he was
settin' in Jim Decker's saloon playin' a little game of poker with
Slim Jim Rutherford, when Jack here come into the saloon. Claib Wood
had been drunk all the night before, and had just come in for his
morning nip. Jack here walked up to him and they talked for two or
three minutes and then Claib tried to draw his gun. In a jiffy Jack
grabbed him and held him and called to Ross to take both guns away; and
then after a minute Jack picked Claib up and threw him across the room
so hard that when he hit the wall and fell on the floor his arm and
collar-bone were broken, and his shoulder was out of joint. Claib hit
the wall so hard that the boys thought he was dead; but it seems not,
and it's a darned pity too. Now, Jack Mason, why didn't you tell us all
this when you came back from town?"
The boys shouted with laughter, but Mason said nothing--only continued
to look at the fire.
When the tumult of cheers and jokes had somewhat died down, McIntyre
repeated his question, but without receiving an answer. Then he turned
and looked over toward Donald.
"Say, boys, there's another criminal here, it seems to me. Here's this
Britisher that came out the other night with Jack Mason. He must have
known all about the thing, and I would like to know why he didn't tell
us. He's tryin' to learn how to be a cowboy, but he sure will never
learn to be a good cowboy until he's ready to give the news, and to
make fun of any other puncher that he gets a chance to josh."
After a moment, Donald spoke.
"Well, Mr. McIntyre, I am new at the cowboy business," he said. "I
have only been trying to learn it for a day or two, and so I cannot be
expected to do my work very well. I did tell one boy when I got here,
and it made him laugh so much that I got a little scared and asked him
not to say anything about it until the news reached the boys in some
other way. Isn't that so, Jack Danvers?"
"Sure," vouched Jack. "Donald told me the whole story the morning he
got in, and I wanted to make a whoop and hurrah about it right off, but
he begged me not to, because he didn't want to be counted a gossip.
Don't you remember last night, when I was asking you men all those
questions about Claib Wood? I was watching Jack Mason all the time to
see if he would make any sign, but he never let on that he had even
seen Claib Wood when he was in town."
This speech of Jack's called forth a series of yells of delight from
the little company. Many jokes were made; and Jack Mason, becoming
somewhat embarrassed, finally rose and went to his blankets. The other
boys soon afterward dispersed to their beds.