CHAPTER XVI

A LESSON IN ROPING

The next day was devoted to cutting cattle and branding calves, and Jack told Donald that this was his chance to practise roping. Jack very hospitably, since Donald was to be the guest of his uncle, gave him his own rope which was in excellent condition, and provided himself with a second one, which had been used only a few times and so was somewhat hard and stiff. Donald was much interested in the work, and anxious to see how it was done, and Jack promised that, so far as he could, he would look after him, and coach him in the work of catching calves.

"But you'll have to look out for yourself and do the best you can," he added, "for there is no time for school-work on the round-up. Very likely you'll make lots of breaks, and the fellows will make lots of fun of you; but that you'll have to stand. They're all good-natured, but everybody that makes a mistake or blunder gets laughed at in a cow camp. It isn't likely that you'll be able to catch calves by their feet. What you'd better do for a starter is to try and catch 'em by their necks, and not throw 'em, but just sort of lead and drag 'em over to where the boys are."

"All right," agreed Donald; "I suppose that's the best thing that I can do. I don't understand this business of catching animals by their feet, and you'll have to tell me about that, before long. I'll try to catch them by the neck, and lead them over; but I haven't a great deal of confidence that I'll do much with it."

The men who were cutting that morning were Charley Powell, Jack Danvers and Jack Mason. Before long it happened that Jack drove a cow and calf over toward the Sturgis bunch, and as Donald was nearby Jack beckoned to him.

"Put your rope on the calf and lead it over to the fire," he called as Donald rode up.

Donald made ready to catch the calf and, though a little slow, he made a good throw before the calf was near the bunch; but unfortunately the loop was so large that the calf jumped through it and was following its mother into the Sturgis herd when Jack, shaking with laughter, threw his rope, caught the calf by the feet and started it for the fire. Donald, much mortified, slowly gathered up his rope and overtook Jack before he had reached the fire.

"That must have seemed a pretty stupid thing to you, but what was the matter?" he asked.

"Why," explained Jack, "your loop was too big, and the beast ran through it. If you had had experience enough you would have seen that your loop was too big, and that it was going beyond the calf's head, and by jerking up your throwing hand you could have stopped the loop so that it would have fallen just over the calf's head, and it would have run against the noose with its chest and been caught. Usually you can get right close to a calf and then throw with a small loop and a rather short rope; but, as I tell you, this is all a matter of practise."

"I am going to watch you," said Donald, "and the next time you cut a calf out, I will try it over again."

"That's right," declared Jack. "If you stay with it you will certainly get there."

But Donald had to learn the lessons of experience. With the next calf that he tried to rope he did better, but, being unable to control his rope properly, the calf's head and forefeet went through the loop. He threw up his hand too late and caught the beast around the middle, and it gave as lively an exhibition of bucking as a three-month-old calf could furnish. The cow had gone on into the bunch and Jack was watching her, and, fearing lest she should turn about and come out to fight, he put his string over the calf's head and led and dragged it to the fire while Donald meekly followed at the other end of his rope.

The boys at the fire shrieked with laughter when they saw what had happened, and declared that they would not cast the rope loose; while Donald did not know how to free it.

"Just put that rope under the iron here, and we'll mark it for keeps," one boy shouted.

Donald made no response except to smile and shake his head. He took it all very good-naturedly, and when his rope was turned loose gathered it up and again helped Jack drive the calf to the bunch.

"That's all right," said Jack. "You are improving; but you have got to keep on practising. It does not take one day nor one year to make a man a good roper. Now I am no roper myself, and yet I have been doing it pretty nearly every summer for the last five or six years."

Donald's third trial was successful. He rode up pretty near to the calf and threw with a short rope and, catching the beast, he turned his horse and dragged the calf up to the fire. When he got there he was received by the boys with more laughter and louder shouts than before. They declared that this could not be Donald; that it must be some one else disguised to resemble him, for it was perfectly well known that Donald never caught calves except around the middle.

Jack, however, was greatly delighted with his new friend's success, and congratulated him warmly on the progress that he was making.

All through the morning they worked hard and all were glad when dinner time came and there was a chance for a little rest. Most of the men saddled fresh horses and those holding the herds were relieved and had an opportunity to get something to eat. Jack and Donald were sent out to hold the Sturgis bunch, and while they were out there, and a little later when they pushed the cattle off to one side to feed, Donald asked Jack to tell him something more about the art of roping.

"You men here catch your calves by the feet, and I've heard," said Donald, "that there are men who can catch any foot of a running animal, if you ask them to. That seems perfectly impossible to me; and in fact it seems to me impossible that anybody could catch the feet of a running animal, but of course I've seen it done to-day."

"Yes," replied Jack, "it is done all the time. It is easy enough to catch an animal by his fore feet, or his hind feet, or by one fore foot or one hind foot, but I am not enough of a roper, and I don't believe I ever shall be, to pick up any foot when I am asked to."

"Well, I can't expect you to tell me how to do things that you say you cannot do yourself, but I would like to understand how to catch an animal by the feet."

Jack laughed.

"Why, that's like most other things in the world: awful simple when you know how to do it, or even how it is done. You just throw your rope so that the animal steps into it either with his hind feet or with his fore feet, as the case may be, but you've got to pull your rope just at the right time. That is to say, if the beast puts his fore feet into the noose lying on the ground, and you leave the noose lying there, why the critter won't get caught. You've got to give a lift and pull on your rope just at the right moment."

"That seems simple enough," declared Donald; "or at least it seems as if it would be simple enough to a man who knows how to rope."

"Yes," said Jack, "but it takes some judgment. You've got to put your rope in the right place, and then, as I said, you've got to pull on it at the right time. You may see boys catching animals by any foot before we get through this round-up, and it is constantly done on the prairie with horses that are mean. If you want to learn how to rope, and to see roping well done, you'd better watch Vicente, or Tulare Joe, who was raised in California with the Mexicans there. He handles a rope better than anybody else in the camp, except Vicente and Juan who are Mexicans. As for Charley Powell and Jack Mason and myself, we are just plain ordinary ropers that can catch horses and cows most of the time but can't do any fancy tricks with a rope the way those Mexicans can. I've seen one or two Mexicans do things with a rope that made my eyes stick out about a foot; but some Americans are pretty good. They tell of a man down on the plains--in Nebraska, I believe--who once when roping calves in a corral, caught and took to the fire a hundred and ten calves in a hundred and ten throws. He didn't miss a single throw."

"I should like to see something of that kind; but for the present I guess plain roping will occupy my attention. There is another thing I want to ask you. Are the Indians good ropers?"

"Fair," answered Jack, "but nothing to brag of--nothing great. They do as well as any of us ordinary cowboys. There is an interesting thing about that--something that Hugh once told me--that a good many years ago, when Hugh first came into the country--that was in 1849--the Indians could hardly rope at all. All the same they used to catch lots of wild horses by just running them down. The country then was full of wild horses. In the spring when the wild horses were poor and weak, the Indians used to take their best horses and start out and find a bunch of the wild horses and chase them as hard as they could, and finally catch them. But they did not know how to rope them. They used to make big hoops of willows and tie the noose of the rope to such a hoop with small strings; then when they had run down an animal, so that they could ride up alongside of it, they would pass the hoop over its head and pull back on the rope; the strings which tied it to the hoop would break, the noose would run up, and the animal could be choked down.

"Of course, they could never catch good horses; those that they got were mostly colts or mares heavy with foal, and animals that were particularly weak from lack of food and the winter's cold.

"The Indians that I've seen did not appear to me to handle their horses very well, and they have no more feeling for a horse than they have for a saddle or a travois. They never consider that a horse has any feelings: it is simply a tool to help them get about and to bear burdens. The Indians are really kind-hearted, but my notion is they just don't happen to think of the suffering they may cause the horse. Indians are kind to each other and to their friends, but I don't think you could call them kind to animals."

"I suppose that is a matter of education," suggested Donald.

"I suppose so," answered Jack. "Besides that, when you are all the time struggling with an animal, or a lot of animals, and trying to make them do something that you want them to do, and that they don't understand, you get kind o' mad at them because they don't mind you. You forget that they don't understand, and you are likely to be brutal to them. Now, for example, I was thinking to-day that it would be a good idea for you, after you get to know how to use a rope a little better, to practise on some of these cows, catching them and throwing them, but I don't suppose a cow very much enjoys being thrown, and it is a question which is the more important, for you to have practise in throwing cows, or to spare the cow the grief of being thrown. I don't suppose it is very pleasant for an animal running at full speed to be checked up and made to turn a somersault and hit the ground like a thousand of--beef we'll say."

"No," Donald said slowly; "I guess not; and I think the question you have suggested is rather a nice one."

"Well, we needn't worry about that. There will be plenty of chances for you to practise on cows before long; and meantime you've got to learn to catch calves."

The boys had an idle, easy time watching this bunch of cattle which was constantly being added to by animals cut out from the big bunch. Before evening all the cattle had been separated and Jack and Donald rode back to the camp together.

Supper over, the boys sat about the fire lazily smoking and talking. After a while there was a pause, which was presently broken by McIntyre.

"I met one of the boys from the Bar Lazy A to-day when I was riding. He was going back to the ranch. Said he had been sent in with a message and spent a day or two in town. I asked him if he had seen anything of Claib Wood, and he said yes, he met him a couple of nights ago; that Claib was full, and looked as if he were hunting trouble. Then he said the next day they had quite a little excitement in town--let's see, Mason, that must have been about the time you were there. Did you hear of any excitement?"

Mason had looked up quickly when McIntyre began to speak and then lowered his eyes and was looking at the fire.

"Why, no, Mac," he replied; "I didn't see anything that excited me very much. The town seemed about as usual--dogs lying in the sun, asleep; two or three men reading a month-old newspaper; lots of flies buzzing in the windows; passenger comes in once a day going east, once a day going west, and freight trains happen along occasionally. Not much excitement in town."

At this answer, the usually grave McIntyre slapped his thigh and burst into a loud guffaw.

"Bully for you, Jack Mason!" he cried. "You've got some sense of humor, darned if you ain't. Why, boys," he went on, addressing the group, "this is what Red Casey of the Bar Lazy A told me. He said that the other morning--meaning the morning Jack Mason here got to town--he was settin' in Jim Decker's saloon playin' a little game of poker with Slim Jim Rutherford, when Jack here come into the saloon. Claib Wood had been drunk all the night before, and had just come in for his morning nip. Jack here walked up to him and they talked for two or three minutes and then Claib tried to draw his gun. In a jiffy Jack grabbed him and held him and called to Ross to take both guns away; and then after a minute Jack picked Claib up and threw him across the room so hard that when he hit the wall and fell on the floor his arm and collar-bone were broken, and his shoulder was out of joint. Claib hit the wall so hard that the boys thought he was dead; but it seems not, and it's a darned pity too. Now, Jack Mason, why didn't you tell us all this when you came back from town?"

The boys shouted with laughter, but Mason said nothing--only continued to look at the fire.

When the tumult of cheers and jokes had somewhat died down, McIntyre repeated his question, but without receiving an answer. Then he turned and looked over toward Donald.

"Say, boys, there's another criminal here, it seems to me. Here's this Britisher that came out the other night with Jack Mason. He must have known all about the thing, and I would like to know why he didn't tell us. He's tryin' to learn how to be a cowboy, but he sure will never learn to be a good cowboy until he's ready to give the news, and to make fun of any other puncher that he gets a chance to josh."

After a moment, Donald spoke.

"Well, Mr. McIntyre, I am new at the cowboy business," he said. "I have only been trying to learn it for a day or two, and so I cannot be expected to do my work very well. I did tell one boy when I got here, and it made him laugh so much that I got a little scared and asked him not to say anything about it until the news reached the boys in some other way. Isn't that so, Jack Danvers?"

"Sure," vouched Jack. "Donald told me the whole story the morning he got in, and I wanted to make a whoop and hurrah about it right off, but he begged me not to, because he didn't want to be counted a gossip. Don't you remember last night, when I was asking you men all those questions about Claib Wood? I was watching Jack Mason all the time to see if he would make any sign, but he never let on that he had even seen Claib Wood when he was in town."

This speech of Jack's called forth a series of yells of delight from the little company. Many jokes were made; and Jack Mason, becoming somewhat embarrassed, finally rose and went to his blankets. The other boys soon afterward dispersed to their beds.