LET 'ER BUCK 



Interestingly enough, I have observed this same 

 practice by the women of the southernmost Amerinds 

 of the Yahgan tribe of the regions of Cape Horn, but 

 it was in the case of a live enemy Indian or one who 

 had committed a crime against the tribe, until they 

 beat him either into unconsciousness or to death. 



It was a peculiarly striking testimony that the Indian 

 hereabouts not only regards The Round-Up as his 

 carnival, but considers it a true celebration of the red 

 man. So, too, was it fitting that here should occur 

 probably the last Victory Dance of the aboriginal 

 American, in actual tribute to their fallen as well as 

 their victorious warriors over a defeated paleface foe. 



" Whoopee ! Wow ! Wow 1" emanates from the open 

 space — yes, and from the bleachers, too, and with a 

 rattling fusillade of gun-play the show is on. You see 

 bad men and vigilantes come riding into town ; the bar- 

 room has its shooting scrape, and cowboy and cowgirl 

 gracefully reel through their dances on horseback and 

 take part in ranch and town games of various kinds, 

 but realism reaches its climax when a furious, long- 

 horned Texas steer is turned loose in the town street. 



At the end of the ''Street," the church building, 

 is, as one of the arena hands put it, "where they 

 kept that there wild steer." The brute had been con- 

 fined in a strong pen during the day and by way of 

 expressing his dissatisfaction, had hoofed a foot-deep 

 hole six feet in diameter out of the entire center. He 

 emerges from the corner behind the dummy church- 

 front with head down and tail up, charging everything 

 in sight. 



The scattered population of Happy Canyon became 

 more scattered. The "caste" shin up the veranda 

 poles of Stagger Inn, dive through the windows of the 



110 



