A RANCHMAN'S RECOLLECTIONS 



filled the grandstand, cheering the events of the 

 first day, with now and then a call for the 

 "Speckled Yearlln','' which was not mentioned in the 

 programme. 



Any one who has not seen an unprofessional 

 rodeo knows little of real cowboy sport, since it dif- 

 fers in its wild abandon, grace and skill from the 

 staged events. As each favored son came on for his 

 "stunt," he was cheered to the echo, and usually 

 he pulled some original antic which sent the crowd 

 wild. 



The announcer, riding before the grandstand, 

 waved for silence. "Listen, people : I want you to 

 hear this; it's a surprise, and the big event. No one 

 has ever been able to stay ten jumps on the 'Speckled 

 Yearhn',' from the Lazy 7 Ranch. Nig Clary will 

 now 'ride at' the Speckled Yearlin' on his own risk: 

 A $50 prize if he stays on; a $25 forfeit if he gets 

 throwed. If he rides him down, a hat collection will 

 be took. If Nig can't ride him some other feller 

 gets a chance tomorrow." 



"If Nig can't nobody kin," shouted the grand- 

 stand. "Turn him a-loose." A wave from the 

 judges' hands, and, like the cutting off of an electric 

 current, all was still and tense. Then from the 

 mounting chute shot the "Speckled Yearlin'," with 

 Nig Clary up, clinging by two hand-holds to a sur- 

 cingle and riding bare-back. The yearling was dead- 

 red, with distinct white speckles about the size of 



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