The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1917-08-02


his back. 1t was fine like dust. I knew |
him at once, for even in the dust his sides |
were smooth aud shiny, like horse from
the stable. He did not look very big then.
81 let Pistol 60 fast, so that the bull
could not get the start. As l came toward
him, with the moose of the reata held just
right in my hand, l let out big yell, for
wanted his head up. He could not see
we'll at first for the dust had got into his
eyes, but anyway he jumped, and Pistol
turned too. We were so close that could
not swing, l wanted to rope him around
the neck, but could only drop the moose
over his horns. The frayed ends of two
other broken ropes were hanging from him.
''When stopped him with jerk, he
swung the horse around and then gave
quick jerk of the rope upward and sidewise
that throws the cattle off their feet; it has to
be done with short rope. Before l could
get one foot out of the stirrup the bull went
down very hard. But in a second he was
up again; he shook his head at me and
snorted.
'T've never had such a fight since, and
I've roped cattle from New mexico to
Northern California. We kept at it for an
hour and half; always he kept coming at
me. The soft ground bothered Pistol. He
wasn't black horse any more; the lather
and dust made him look dirty gray. He
was tired, too, and could not move very
fast. He breathed hard. and shifted his
feet cautiously. With my knees could
feel him tremble. But the bull was still
strong and quick. could not get him
down. His mouth was open and his long
tongue hung out, but he was not at all ready
to quit. knew that when l gave out he
would kill Pistol first and then me. Pistol
would not run away; my father had trained
him.
'Perhaps you have been in long fight,
when you knew your enemy was winning,
but you would not give up. was that
way. felt sorry fol- Pistol, because it was
not his fault; for myself, l did not care.
Every man must have his big fight some
day. How can he be sure how it will end?
He can only do his best. So kept talking
to, Pistol and watching the bull. He SEEM
ed very big now-bigger than any other bull
l had ever seen, his horns. too, looked long
er and sharper than before.
Cali the time we were moving down the
hill, not fast, because almost we kept going
round and round. Pistol was surefooted
horse, so when he stumbled looked quick
ly. saw what it was-the little stub of
mesquite brush; it was no bigger than
ground owl, but could see the big root be-
meath, where the cattle trail had cut in the
ground beside it. Almost before Pistol
could recover himself, the bull made a rush
at US. He lowered his head and shutting
his eyes, came charging down. had al
ready slipped one foot out of the stirrup, for
l thought it would be the end; did not
want to 60 down under Pistol. But did
not jump, for there was no time.
''Just then the bull stumbled. too. like a
buck that has been hit. His eyes were shut
and he did not see the snag; he went clear
full of dirt. l was boy then, and could
move as fast as hawk. When you think
you are about to die, you act quickly. One
of the loose rope ends was dragging along
behind. saw my chance, and in mo-
ment was down on the ground, grabbed
the trailing rope and as quickly as hands
could work coiled it round and round the
mesquste snag. My own reata, tight and
strong, stretched from the bulls head to the
saddle horn. And there was good old Pts
toll, his forelegs braced out in front, keeping
the rope just right; my father had taught
him that. The bull was still down. His
eyes were open now. but he could not move
forward or backward. I was not tired any
more, but worked fast, tying his legs.
'When the last knot was finished, Pistol
knew. did not call him! he just walked
up to me and switched his tail as he came
You have seen cattle horses: you have heard
them play with the bit as they walk.
every slowly he came, and then rubbed
his muzzle on my shoulder. have known
lots of horses since, but liked Pistol bes
of all.
"That night at camp, When old Juar
paid me the fifty dollars, he had to tease me
what is the trouble, Ramon?' he said
Did the black bull bite your hand?'
guess he could see that the rope had burn
, it, but of course he had to say something
: AS Ramon finished the story, he gazet
once more at his hand, and then sat silen
A by the dying fire.
Days