LET 'ER BUCK 



sleeves and protect his wrists and forearm from being 

 burnt with a rope. His chapps, from chappareros, 

 the leather over-breeches, were first worn to protect 

 clothes and legs against the thorny chapparal or brush 

 of the southwest, and the old-time fringes, or more 

 modern broad wings, shed rain — as do the more dis- 

 tinctively Northwest type of angora goat's hair chaps 

 — and likewise keep the wearer warm. 



His boots, often fancifully stitched with colored 

 thread, their tops slit front and back, with heels high 

 enough to inspire the envy of a little French grisette, 

 serve the purpose of preventing his being hung up in 

 his stirrup. His dull-pointed clanking spurs are for 

 emergency on the range, and whether they should be 

 worn, shanks up or down, depends on the part of the 

 country he is from and is one of the moot questions of 

 the West. About Pendleton the downs have it. 



That fluttering, shimmering thing of color, the ker- 

 chief, is most characteristic of the Round-Up. You 

 will notice that its small end is tied with the loop worn 

 in front — just the reverse from a sailor's kerchief — 

 but there's a reason. Run cattle in the choking dust 

 of a corral or follow them in the blinding dust storms 

 of the range, and your kerchief will soon be drawn 

 tight over the bridge of your nose. 



It is on Saturday nights, or more especially during 

 the Round-Up when the boys ride in from the ranches, 

 that you see them outfitting in the high-grade shops of 

 the city, which carry for this occasion particularly gala- 

 colored shirts of sheening silk or rich velvet, and stud- 

 ded on collar, front and forearm with pearl buttons as 

 flat and big as dollars, and kerchiefs which would make 

 any self-respecting rainbow pale with envy. 



On the corner a big-sombreroed, swarthy Mexican 



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