Hard Riding in California 359 



foolish aftermath of a deer hunt; I was not 

 obliged to do it; but this sort of work was often 

 the daily or weekly routine cut out for the old 

 Californian of fifty years, or less, ago on the 

 slopes of the Sierra Madre canons. This was 

 rough riding, as cattle were roped in this maze 

 and driven out, and the men who accomplished 

 it doubtless never thought it extraordinary. 



The rider whose understanding of rough rid- 

 ing is limited to fiction and Buffalo Bill's caval- 

 cade of trained buckers, and his own experiences 

 in the level fields of the East, is easily misled, 

 and country which appears to him dangerous 

 and impossible is often a bagatelle to an in- 

 telligent California broncho who knows his coun- 

 try. I was riding a few years ago over a very 

 hard country with an Eastern friend, a man of 

 undoubted courage and pluck, and discovered 

 that he was amazed at what he termed the climb- 

 ing quality of my horse. I could scarcely con- 

 vince him that if he would but permit his own 

 animal to have the rein he would do the same. 

 He had never seen a broncho run dow r n the side 

 of a mountain, and where it was too steep to 

 run, settle on his haunches and slide like a tobog- 

 gan and reach the bottom, knee-deep in sand. 

 He could not believe that a horse could run at 

 full speed on a winding coyote trail on the face 

 of a canon, as steep as the side of a roof, yet 

 it was an every-day experience with the little 



