Ranch Life 93 



of the "greasers," however, can still fling a rope 

 with such exquisite art that the loop seems to be 

 guided by an invisible hand to the horn or hoof 

 it is destined to encircle ; they can vault on, and 

 off, and over, a horse at full gallop, or snatch a coin 

 from the ground as they race by — swinging far 

 out of their big saddles and into them again with 

 extraordinary grace and agility ; they can " tail " 

 a bull ; they can " tie up " and untie a wild Texan 

 steer, single-handed ; and they can break and ride 

 anything that goes on all-fours. In the days be- 

 fore the American occupation of the Pacific Slope 

 the mastery of such feats was part, the larger part, 

 of a cahallero's education, and the vaquero was held 

 in high esteem. To-day, poor fellow, his occupa- 

 tion is almost gone. 



There is plenty of work to be done on a big cattle- 

 ranch: fences must be built and repaired; water 

 troughs — where there are no streams — must be 

 filled ; the hay-land must be sown to barley, and 

 the crop harvested. You eat the plainest and most 

 unpalatable fare, — bacon and beans, for the most 

 part, with canned vegetables and dried apples and 

 apricots. You sleep in the hardest of bunks, be- 

 tween rough blankets. You wear canvas overalls. 

 You smoke coarse tobacco. But you are strong 

 and well. That is the reason why so many men, 

 who would seem to be ill-equipped for a rough life, 

 deliberately chose it in preference to any other. 



As a rule, the cowboys spend what they earn in 

 drink, the most fiery whisky they can find — the 

 brand known as " Sheepherder's delight." After 



