THE ROUND-UP 



show a stoical grim anxiety — it's awful to see a man 

 dragged while you stand by helpless. 



Buck — kick — jerk — buck, he flings his flying hoofs 

 to right and left at the prostrate, dragging man. Sud- 

 denly the inert form is seen to twist itself with a 

 mighty effort out of the stirrup just in time to avoid — 

 bang ! — a crash through the fence into the arena. The 

 terrible blow splinters the boards, the rider thrown 

 violently against a post is now clear of the horse but 

 lies quite still. 



The horse goes on his bucking way toward the pad- 

 dock. How the rider was freed from his jeopardy is a 

 trick which the old hands know, but few can achieve. 

 Long boots, one of which you can still see dangling 

 from the stirrup, is evidence — the rider had cork- 

 screwed out — of his footgear. 



But to the amazement of the crowd, as the first 

 aids run to him, he suddenly jumps to his feet, one of 

 which is now four inches longer than the other. The 

 dazed man makes a couple of half -reeling, staggering 

 turns his eyes riveted on the track then mutters : 



"Where in hell's my boot?" The grandstand sits 

 down relieved. 



A wild yell of approval goes up for Long Tom when 

 that great docile-looking plough horse up to his old 

 tricks, rids itself of its rider in just three terrific 

 jumps. Sometimes Long Tom was a bit lazy — for 

 him — but when Tom "broke in two" he threw good 

 men as well as others; whenever too he gave that 

 famous twist to his shoulders, it was just "peek-a- 

 boo" with the saddle. Whistling Annie does the same 

 trick with "Whiskey Joe" of Arizona, who just 

 loosens up his knees a bit and the hoss isn't there. 

 Crooked River proves just as crooked as his name and 



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