LET 'ER BUCK 



laid off due north and south is because Moses Goodwin, 

 when he laid the foundations for the old Pendleton 

 Hotel, did not set it straight. The lines of the new 

 hotel, an up-to-date, six-story structure, are on the ex- 

 act site of the old tavern. 



For three days now, the contestants have been step- 

 ping into the American National Bank to sign up on 

 the Round-Up entry books. This year there are over 

 two hundred palefaces and over one hundred redmen. 

 But tomorrow is the first day of the Great Show. So 

 let's turn in here and climb the steep flight of stairs to 

 the committee's headquarters. It is a big barn of a 

 room ; you see it is crowded with practically the entire 

 buckaroo "outfit," — cowboys, cowgirls, Indians and 

 occasionally a Mexican — as swarthy, orderly and pic- 

 turesque a crowd as you could find. The man on that 

 table above the sombreros in the upper strata of tobac- 

 co smoke is one of the committee. He's calling the 

 names of the entrants for the events. See, each in 

 turn steps up and draws from the broad-brimmed hat 

 the number of the horse that he is to attempt to ride. 



Watch "Tex" Daniels, that rangy, powerfully built 

 buckaroo worming through the crowd. He's drawing 

 now. 



"Tex Daniels rides Long Tom!" is announced. 

 "Wow ! Wow !" and the banterings from the crowd 

 show that Long Tom is not only a well-known horse, 

 but is the bugbear of the riders and king of the buckers. 



"George Attebury on McKay, Ed McCarthy on 

 Light Foot, Fred Heide on Hot Foot, Art Acord on 

 Butter Creek, Hoot Gibson on Mrs. Wiggs," so the 

 drawing goes on, and you become familiar with the 

 names and faces of the greatest contingent of experts 

 in frontier sports to be found on the globe. Among 



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