CHAPTER THREE 

 CORRAL DUST 



"Goin' to the tryouts?" 



I replied by swinging my horse into the little group 

 of riders on their way to the Round-Up grounds. On 

 my off side rode Buffalo Vernon, one of the contest- 

 ants in the first Round-Ups and who set the pace in the 

 roping and steer bulldogging. Besides Vernon was 

 Art Acord, another first class bulldogger and one of 

 the best all-round buckaroos ; on my nigh side was Jane 

 Bernoudy, the attractive California girl and one of 

 the greatest of fancy ropers. Next to Jane was the 

 marvelous relay rider, Jason Stanley, and on the out- 

 side long and lanky "Skeeter" Bill Robbins. 



We jogged along to the soft clink of spur, champ of 

 bit, the jingle of rein chains and softer retch of leather 

 trappings, music to the ear of range folk. This 

 level road, elm shaded, from between whose insterstices 

 pretty cottage homes peep out, along which we ride to 

 the soft putter of our horses' hoofs, was first a trail, 

 hard-padded by centuries of passings of the mocca- 

 sined feet of the Amerinds; then, after the acquisi- 

 tion of ponies, it widened into a series of parallel 

 paths, perhaps eight or ten, a little more than a rider's 

 distance apart. Then the prairie schooner, the stage 

 coach and the freighter rutted it and the scout, cowboy 

 and pony express rider packed it harder. 



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