LET 'ER BUCK 



tepee smokes of sage-brush and greasewood burn an 

 incense to the god of the range and freedom; then 

 their fires dim, the Cottonwood's soft, feathery masses 

 stencil darkly against the silver-oxide of night. Crawl- 

 ing slowly above them, the crescent of the new moon 

 shadows its pale calm on the stillness of things. 



It is all a chapter taken out of the history of the 

 old West — a chapter which every American with red 

 blood in his veins should read in the real before it 

 passes by and, like the old West, forever disappears 

 on the horizon of time. 



But to understand, one must look with one's own 

 eyes on these things. Then you will feel the stir and 

 the thrill of life of these golden lands of hopes and 

 achievements, where man extends a generous and 

 hospitable welcome to those who cross his trails ; it is 

 a spectacle which makes you go away with a bigger, 

 finer feeling toward life, and a genuine respect and 

 appreciation for the quiet, modest manhood and 

 womanhood who have "taken chances," have risked 

 limb and even life at times in their sports of daring 

 and skill, that you may see how their fathers once 

 struggled in earnest against unequal odds in order to 

 attain the Winning of the West. 



226 



