LET 'ER BUCK 



me, — them two what's together now right here by this 

 trough sure are two of the heaviest buckers that I ever 

 did see. The nigh un's I Be Damn and the off un's U 

 Be Damn, and I'll be " 



"Git them 'cattle,' " yelled Wild Bill as he rode for 

 some of the wild horses to be wrangled, with Jess 

 Brunn and other wranglers hot after him. Come on; 

 let's help cut out this "stuff." 



If you have never tried to cut out and rope some 

 particular wild horses out of a stampeding bunch, rip- 

 tearing about a corral in a cyclone of dust, with lar- 

 iats, cowboys and fence splinters criss-crossing in all 

 directions like a Patagonian williwaw there are some 

 thrills left for you. 



Any horse you may think you want, knows it as 

 quick as you do — human mental telepathy has nothing 

 on that wild cayuse. As quick as you think him, he will 

 put another horse or more between you and him, and 

 always maneuver into the most impossible position for 

 your rope or for you to handle it after you get it. He'll 

 dodge, duck and disappear in the herd. Even after he 

 is roped, particularly if by the neck, he'll fight until his 

 wind is choked off which is bad for the horse. Then 

 comes getting him out of the corral. 



I well remember one little calico cayuse we went 

 after that morning. 



"Rope him, cowboy, awful wild," yelled Ridings. 



"No wild horse, it's a woman's horse. I believe you 

 can drive him," chuckled Wild Bill with a grin, watch- 

 ing from his saddle by the gate. "You told me you 

 wanted 'em wild, but I could only find these pets for 

 you," and Bill went on grinning. 



S-s-r-r-r ! went Blancett's rope, but the little cayuse's 

 head ducked between two horses. 



90 



