THE DESERT AND THE ROSE 15 



stirred the blood. It was a Mexican horse race. The 

 animals provided for this then favorite pastime — 

 still popular but not so easy of attainment — were 

 graded and therefore lending - grace and beauty to 

 the wild scene. The road was lined with vehicles, 

 caballeros, pedestrians — both races represented, 

 every white or brown face tense with excitement. 

 The Mexican jockeys were bare footed and bare 

 headed, their swarthy locks bound Indian wise, 

 white cotton shirts and drawers their racing attire. 

 The frantic steeds reared and plunged, their riders 

 sticking to them like centaurs ; for the horses were 

 neither saddled nor blanketed, and the bridles were 

 just hair ropes looped around the muzzles. 



A shot was fired, and amid the yells of the crowd 

 away they went, vanishing in a storm of dust, while 

 we sank back with ejaculations of delight. 



"That was fine!" 



It was. 



The Mexican inherits from the ages a certain 

 supple quality of limbs and body, and provided he 

 is anything of a horseman is in his element on the 

 back of a horse, although for ornamental purposes 

 he prefers the splendor of silver mounted saddle 

 and tasselled bridle. You are in high favor with him 

 when he presents you with a beautifully braided 

 bridle. The Far Western American, generally 

 speaking, is more or less helpless when deprived of 

 his cumbrous and weighty saddle in which he sits 

 as in a deep chair. Probably he has never rounded 

 up a steer in his life, yet he adopts the cowboy 

 equipment and the cowboy style of riding — both 



