LET 'ER BUCK 



Jackson Sundown, the Nez Perce, was a fitting repre- 

 sentative as the first and only red man to wrest this 

 title from the Paleface. 



"What inscription do you want on the silver plate, 

 Sundown?" was asked him at the saddlery store as they 

 viewed the beautiful, coveted prize-saddle. 



"You put wife's name," was the quiet reply. 



The entire throng lets loose when the three outlaws, 

 Light-foot, No Name and big-boned Long Tom are 

 led into the arena. There is no question about deci- 

 sion as to the champion calibre of the horses. C. C. 

 Couch, Bob Cavin and A. E. McCormack are picked. 

 Couch draws first and secures the sorrel, No Name. 



Watch that little dynamo ! His satanic majesty re- 

 fuses to be saddled and strikes, kicks, and bites at the 

 wranglers with all the ferocity of a wild beast. If the 

 wranglers never had their hands full before, they have 

 now. His vicious fore-striking is so intelligent it has 

 them buffaloed and they reach very gingerly toward 

 his head to slip in the blind, but his foot reach is longer 

 than their lanky arms. 



"Or man 'im !" advises the bleachers, and "old man 

 him" they do, which consists in throwing a looped rope 

 over neck or back, moving him over and passing the 

 free end of the rope through the loop and thus roping 

 him anywhere one sees fit, for greater control or se- 

 curity. Still their efforts to saddle him are futile. 



"Can't yer teach a tame hoss?" comes from the 

 bleachers. 



A wrangler makes a sudden spring and throws both 

 arms around his neck well under the jaw, and with the 

 assistance of the others, No Name is thrown, the 

 wrangler still maintaining his hold. 



206 



