886 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
DEC. 20 
much anywhere else. 1 shall have to stay in this business 
until the younger ones can earn something, that is cer¬ 
tain.” The horses Dan broke for us had been handled 
somewhat, and were less difficult to control than those 
that had run on the range all their lives, untamed. In 
this work he showed great skill and courage. 
The night before the round-up started, Dan came to me 
and said : 
“ I have been thinking of what you said to me, 
and I have decided to get my life insured. I don’t like to 
speak to mother about it, or to give her the paper to keep, 
for fear she will worry. I am going to ask you to keep it 
for me, and then she will get it in case anything happens 
to me. I am not blue, Mrs. Grayson, but I must do every¬ 
thing I can to provide for my family.” 
He seemed pleased when I assured him that I thought he 
had acted wisely, and I willingly took charge of his policy. 
The next morning Dan, with many others, started for the 
point where the round-up was to begin. They took with 
them extra horses to ride; the vehicles known to all round¬ 
up men as “ grub wagons,” containing food and blankets, 
were in charge of the cooks. It had been advertised in the 
papers at what places they would commence to gather 
cattle, and what ground was to be worked over each day, 
so all cattle owners could work together under a captain 
of their own choosing. They went hundreds of miles to 
the east, and worked west to the mountains. When they 
were near our place we rode out to see how a round-up was 
managed. We found men on little cow-ponies, heating 
branding irons and burning their brands upon the sides of 
creatures. Two riders would single out an animal from 
the herd and follow him at full speed until near enough to 
catch him with their lassos and throw him ; the ponies, if 
well-trained, would hold the ropes tight until the branding 
was done, then the men had to spring into their saddles, 
for the loosened steer might impale a footman on its 
horns. We found Dan starting out with several others to 
catch unbroken bronchos and ride them out upon “ the 
circuit,” that is, to scour the surrounding country to 
bring in all the cattle found ranging there. With all his 
cow-boy trappings on, Dan was a fine specimen of a West¬ 
ern cattleman. I noticed that he carried a hunting-knife 
in his belt. I asked him why. 
‘‘A man might get tangled in his rope and want to cut 
it,” he replied. It was very interesting to watch the men 
among the horses. They caught them with the lariats as 
the others had captured the cattle, only they did not need 
to throw them. The pony that Dan caught was a very 
vicious beast. Several men worked together to saddle and 
bridle him. They blinded his eyes and after repeated ef¬ 
forts got the bits in his mouth. To put on the saddle 
seemed almost impossible, because of the biting and strik¬ 
ing ; but with a great deal of patient working it was at 
last accomplished, 
“Good-bye, boys 1” said Dan, as he quite took the pony 
by surprise and sprang into the saddle. It came nearer 
being a final good-bye than the rider had thought of. The 
pony was obstinate; he jumped, and reared, and plunged 
in a truly frightful manner. Now he threatened to go 
over backwards with his rider, but the quick throwing 
of the latter’s weight upon the pony’s neek stopped that. 
Now he jumped up and came down in the same place till 
the blood started from the nose and ears of the man. The 
others paused in their work ; accustomed as they were to 
such sights, they all liked to see a courageous rider subdue 
a wild horse. Tired at last with his unavailing attempts 
to rid himself of his unwelcome burden, the angry pony 
rushed at full speed out on to the open prairie. Now the 
worst of the breaking was over, or naturally would have 
been, but in spite of all the care that had been exercised in 
putting it on, a quick dash to one side caused a little 
looked for event; a cry of horror went up from the lookers 
on when they saw that the saddle had turned. Every one 
expected that before help could reach him, brave Dan 
would be a mangled corpse, dragged over the plains by the 
maddened animal. The other cow-boys let loose their un¬ 
broken ponies as quickly as possible and sprang upon the 
backs of their trained horses and gave chase, their lariats 
swinging in the air, ready to be thrown when near enough 
to the running horse. But even as they sped away they saw 
there would be little need of their help. As the saddle 
turned the strong man threw his arms around the pony’s 
neck ; his feet were fast in the stirrups. On dashed the 
horse. Now the rider’3 feet were hitting the ground. 
This could not last long; clinging with one arm to the 
pony’s neck, witn the other hand he grasped the handle 
of his knife and plunged it into the side of the horse. Its 
mad career was ended; soon it staggerred and fell; the 
pursuing horseman came up in time to lift the dying beast 
from the form of their fainting comrade. Much shaken 
and bruised, but with no bones broken, Dan was soon 
upon his feet. His saddle and bridle were transferred to 
another horse and the work went on as if nothing unusual 
had occurred. 
The next day the round up moved on. We never saw 
Dan again. As he had said, every year someone was killed. 
This year it was Dan’s horse that broke into the fatal 
burrow, going at its greatest speed, the ground gave way 
beneath its fore feet, and rider and horse turned a surner- 
sault. The neck of the animal was broken and poor Dan 
was so fearfully injured that he never spoke again. It 
became my sad duty to take the policy Dan had left in my 
care to the stricken mother. 
“ I never can use the money purchased by my poor boy’a 
life,” she sobbed. 
“ Say, rather, God be thanked that you had such a noble, 
thoughtful son.” 
In a little cemetery beside a flowing river, rest all that 
was mortal of poor Dan. 
On a white stone below his name is this inscription: 
"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay 
down his life for his friends.” 
fc 
1 
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o I 
7 
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c Okpp iec 
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Tk ro fne sleetMnd snow tkat^ the cil Cj enfold, 
fo-aNtfles and roofs so thick with mold 
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TuS Chint^'&.nc^ ovr vx/insorne girlie 
i back in the sleigh covered over with gold 
.Back over the roofs, tkro’ fhe storm and the cold 
"They sped to"the fire-place grim and old, 
'Whene the stocking hvng as fvl I as twovld hold - 
Cflxceplffor the dolly with locks of ^old,) 
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Wk ^•wkistfe a.ndnod Co ki s reindeers hold, 
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Tub Rural New-Yorker. 
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