(URLS ON A ROUND UP 



407 



and were directed to camp. Two of us and 

 the Buyer, whom we had met at the hotel, 

 rode tired horses and lost sight of the cart. 

 That was the beginning of what seemed a 

 long, sad story then, but was only an inci- 

 dent in the night's work. We rode from five 

 in the afternoon (having dined at twelve), 

 gave up finding camp at about ten, and 

 retraced our way to the hotel, reaching there 

 at a quarter to one in the morning. We had 

 had quite enough of two experiences we 

 hoped to have in the West, namely, riding 

 by moonlight and smelling the spicy odor 

 of sagebrush. We fell on food and on sleep, 

 respectively, and next morning they came 

 and took us back to camp — a ride of about 

 an hour, by the way. We gazed on our 

 recovered grub-wagon as on the hearth of 

 our fathers, and vowed not to leave its shel- 

 tering sides until the round-up was over. 



But we had more moonlight riding — 

 when we rode night -herd. We were glad to 

 find Boston on first shift, for he was an old 

 acquaintance now. This Indian half-breed's 

 name of "Boston " was due to his blue eyes : 

 "Bostonman" is Chinook for "white man," 

 and only white men have blue eyes. That 

 is why a blue-eyed Indian baby was given 

 the name of Boston. He was a friendly, 

 story-telling soul, but he had an enormous 

 appetite, and we used to shudder at tales 

 of his devouring seventy-two fish or seven 

 good-sized steaks at a meal. After seeing 

 him eat two big breakfasts, one at six and 

 one at eight, and watching him heap his 

 plate repeatedly at dinner, we began to 

 believe these legends of his prowess. When 

 he came off afternoon-riding he would assist 

 the cooks by baking bannocks. A picture 

 that rises to mind, ever accompanied by a 

 smile, is that of the burly figure of Boston 

 plentifully sprinkled with flour, bending 

 tenderly over the bannocks browning by the 

 fire. It was with Boston that we rode 

 around and around the herd, enjoying it 

 while the sunset gilded the west and the 

 moon was big and yellow near the horizon. 

 And Boston told us how his horse rolled 

 from under him when he was riding over the 

 cut banks, and that he "unhooked a rib 

 that day." Then he sang that he was "No- 

 body's darling, nobody cared for him," 

 which sad refrain had the effect of inducing 

 the herd to bed -down. In spite of this enter- 



tainment the nigh.1 grew cold and the riding 

 monotonous. We would gladly have re 

 called our loudly proclaimed intention of 

 staying out until the second shift came on 

 at one. As the evening chill increased the 

 disgrace of being quitters seemed a less evil 

 than being frozen to death, so, encouraged 

 by our host, we slipped off carefully, not to 

 disturb the sleeping herd, and built a big 

 fire. When we were well warm ed we return ed 

 to camp and were ready to turn in at eleven - 

 thirty. So we rode night-herd. 



It was a proud day when the cattle were 

 shipped. Camp was in a pasture beyond 

 the shipping town, and when it came time 

 to drive the cattle to the yards we girls were 

 requested to lead the herd. It was a herd 

 of only five hundred head, but it looked big 

 to ride ahead of and to wave back if it came 

 on too fast or started in a wrong direction. 

 One of the cowboys drawled encouragingly 

 as we started: "They're terrible liable to 

 stampede when you reach town." Accord- 

 ingly chills of apprehension ran down our 

 backs on the outskirts of town, but that herd 

 wasn't going to disgrace the girls, and it 

 went through the little town decently and in 

 order. We must admit that we heaved sighs 

 of gratification and relief when it was safe 

 inside the stock pens. We certainly did 

 impress Boston, judging by this flattering 

 comment, overheard by one of us: "The 

 sight of them girls leadin' them steers is as 

 pretty a one as I ever see." 



We watched the loading from the corral 

 fence, which shook amazingly when twenty- 

 five angry steers rushed against it, but it 

 made such a fine grand-stand that we re- 

 fused to leave. We felt like saying good-bye 

 to each animal as it was driven (none too 

 gently) into the chute. There was that big 

 cream-colored one, cut out in the mountain 

 pasture and then taken back; that mean 

 mooley that was always making for the 

 brush, and now was milling round and 

 round the pen until we longed to show it 

 how to reverse; there was that big-horned 

 roan, found the first day on the cut banks, 

 and the bald-faced one from Bill's Cross- 

 ing — in they all went and the gates slid to 

 on them. Slowly the train steamed off and 

 it was all over. But the memory of it will 

 never be over for the lucky girls who "got 

 to go " on a round-up. 



