THE ROUND-UP 



ingly in midheaven. It was, indeed, a sight fit for the 

 gods. Long braids of crow-black hair tied in front 

 looped and wafted against the cinnamon brown cheeks 

 of the rider; his colored shirt and kerchief flattening 

 and billowing against his muscle-articulating torso in 

 the movements of the wind ; his long-haired black- 

 spotted, orange chapps flapped and fluttered, as the 

 horse rose and fell, while the wild-fighting beast, fol- 

 lowing the inner side of the fence, bucked, twisted, 

 high-dived and did his best to break in two. 



On he went ! It seemed no man could stand the pun- 

 ishment, but never for a moment did those long-haired 

 chapps pause in their rowelling from withers to rump 

 during the entire fight of the ride, nor did the big som- 

 brero cease for a moment to fan the air. Sundown was 

 indeed riding to win everything or lose everything, on 

 his last throw of the dice. 



''Stay with him, Sundown!" 



"Ride 'im, Injun!" 



But Jackson did not hear. The shot rang out. 



"Take him up!" 



Herb Thompson rode alongside and helped Sun- 

 down dismount from one of the two most thrilling 

 rides ever recorded. The crowd was cheering itself 

 into a frenzy. One name was borne out from ten 

 thousands of throats. "Sundown! Sundown!" came 

 from the grandstand: "Sundown!" echoed the bleach- 

 ers; "Sundown!" re-echoed the mounted contingent 

 and the Indians. 



"Ugh!" 



It was the epic ride for his race which this son of 

 Chief Joseph made in his fiftieth year. It was indeed 

 the grand championship in the grand final not only of 

 the Round-Up, but probably of the history of his race. 



205 



