One of the most interesting tasks of the day was the breaking in of a
new horse. The professional bronco-buster who did this was always an
object of admiration to the strenuous Roosevelt. Roosevelt expressed
his respect for these men in unreserved terms. He described their
calling as a most dangerous trade, at which no man can hope to grow
old. His work was infinitely harder than that of the horse-breaker in
the East, because he had to break many horses in a limited time. Horses
were cheap on the plains. Each outfit had a great many, and the pay for
breaking the animals was only $5 or $10.
Giving a keener edge to the work of dealing with broncos is the peril
that confronts the ranchmen from vicious horses. One of Roosevelt’s
horses would at times rush at a man open-mouthed like a wolf, ready to
bury his teeth in the ranchman’s flesh if he was not quick enough to
fight him.
[Illustration: COPYRIGHT, UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD
JUST BEFORE ENTERING YELLOWSTONE PARK. JOHN BURROUGHS, THE VETERAN
NATURALIST, IS AT THE PRESIDENT’S RIGHT. SECRETARY LOEB AT HIS LEFT]
Once in a while a wild stallion was caught. This sort of animal fears
no beast except the grizzly; yet, Roosevelt stated, he has one master
among animals. That creature is the jackass. A battle between jack and
stallions came under Roosevelt’s observation. Among the animals of
a certain ranch were two great stallions and a jackass. The latter
was scarcely half the size of the stallions. The animals were kept
in separate pens, but one day the horses came together, and a fight
between them ensued. They rolled against the pen of the jackass,
breaking it down. Instantly the jackass with ears laid back and mouth
wide open, sprang at the two horses. The gray horse reared on his hind
legs and struck at his antagonist with his fore feet, but in a second
the jack had grasped the gray by the throat.
The stallion made frantic endeavors to drive him off, but the jack kept
his hold. The black stallion now plunged into the scrimmage, attacking
both the gray and the jack alternately, using hoofs and teeth in his
efforts to kill one or the other. The jack responded to the new attack
with increased ferocity, and would doubtless have killed at least one
of the stallions had not the ranchmen, by desperate efforts, separated
the maddened brutes.
Roosevelt, on his first roundup, had enough experiences with wild
broncos to satisfy the most hardened rough rider. It was impossible
to bridle or saddle single-handed one of his horses. Another was one
of the worst buckers on the ranch. Once it bucked Roosevelt off,
resulting in a fall that broke a rib. Another would balk and then
throw himself over backward. Roosevelt was once caught under him, and
suffered as a result a broken shoulder.
Roosevelt welcomed roundup work as a relief to the monotony of the
daily tasks on the ranch. The spring roundup was the big event of the
season. The bulk of calves were to be branded then. Out-of-the-way
parts of the country where cattle were supposed to have wandered had
to be searched, so that the roundup usually extended for six or seven
weeks, with no rest for the herders.
First the captain of the roundup was chosen. His qualifications were an
ability to command and control the wild rough riders who served under
him. The rendezvous was set, and from each ranch a cowboy rode out to
meet at this common starting place. A four-horse wagon carried the
bedding and food. The teamster acted as cook and was first-rate at both
jobs. A dozen cow-punchers accompanied the wagon. Then, to take charge
of the horses, there were two horse-rangers.
When the meeting place was reached, several days elapsed in making
arrangements for the roundup. The time was passed in racing,
breaking rough horses or in skylarking. Horse-racing was a mania with
the cow-punchers, both whites and Indians. The horses were ridden
bareback. Intense excitement preceded the race, and where the horses
participating were well enough known to have partisans there generally
arose quarrels between the two sides.
The races were short-distance dashes. Down between two thick rows of
spectators, some on foot and some on horseback, the riders passed. Some
of the lookers-on yelled and shouted encouragement at the top of their
lungs. Some fired off their revolvers. All waved their hats and cloaks
in encouragement. Naturally, the excitement made both horses and riders
frantically eager to win, and when the goal was reached they were
exhausted with nervous excitement.
The most exciting and dangerous part of the roundup comes when the
cattle are stampeded by a storm or through fright. Anything may start
them--the plunge of a horse, the approach of a coyote, the arrival of
new steers or cows. In an instant the herd rises to its feet and rushes
off. Then the work of the cowboys is cut out for them. No matter how
rough the ground or how black the night, the cow-punchers must ride
without sparing themselves to head them off and finally stop them.
Even when stopped there is danger of them breaking again. Sometimes a
man gets caught in the rush of the beasts and is trampled to death.
Roosevelt never experienced this danger, but he knew the very hardest
part of the work. On one occasion he was for thirty-six hours in the
saddle, dismounting only to change horses or to eat.
At another time he was helping to bring a thousand head of young cattle
down to his lower range. At night he and a cowboy stood guard. The
cattle had been without water that day, and in their thirst they tried
to break away. In the darkness Roosevelt could dimly see the shadowy
outlines of the frantic herd. With whip and spurs he circled around the
herd, turning back the beasts at one point just in time to wheel and
keep them in at another. After an hour of violent exertion, by which
time he was dripping with sweat, he and his companion finally quieted
the herd.
On still another occasion Roosevelt was out on the plains when a
regular blizzard came. The cattle began to drift before the storm. They
were frightened and maddened by the quick, sharp flashes of lightning
and the stinging rain. The men darted to and fro before them and
beside them, heedless of danger, checking them at each point where they
threatened to break through. The thunder was terrific. Peal followed
peal. Each flash of lightning showed a dense array of tossing horns
and staring eyes. At last, however, when the storm was raging in fury,
and when it seemed impossible to hold the herd together any longer,
the corrals were reached, and by desperate efforts Roosevelt and his
companions managed to turn the herds into the barns. It was such work
as this that brought Roosevelt self-reliance and hardihood and made him
in later life a firm advocate of horsemanship.
Though Roosevelt’s ranch life yielded him big assets in health and
experience, financially it proved a failure. It is estimated that he
lost $100,000 on the venture. “Bill” Sewall testifies that Roosevelt
shared all gains with Dow and him, who were practically his partners,
but that when the cattle died Roosevelt assumed all losses without a
word of complaint to his comrades.