All this, however, was tame when compared with the Stampede itself. None of the girls had ever seen a travelling Wild West show, so they had no conception of what was about to take place. The town of Crider had expended every effort to make the event a memorable one; and among the many spectators, at least not one of the Girl Scouts was likely to forget what she saw that day. The streets were thronged with people and the scene of the festivities was already crowded when the girls arrived. Through the efforts of Mr. Hilton they were fortunate in securing places from which they could command a view of the entire arena; and each scout—even Doris—had the determined air of intending not to miss a thing. While waiting for the fun to begin, they watched with interest the ever-increasing crowd of spectators, a happy, care-free crowd, over which the spirit of holiday-making seemed to prevail.
The show started by all the participants riding about the big arena in a procession. They were mostly cowboys, ranchers, and cavalrymen of the United States Army; but there were also a number of real Indians who were there to take a special part in the performance. After they had all passed in review, heartily applauded by the spectators, they retired; and the especially prepared events took place, reviewing the early history and the making of the West. A group on horse-back and in covered wagons representing the early pioneers crossing the plains, appeared; and one of the many dangers which were frequently encountered on such journeys was graphically illustrated by an attack from Indians, hideously painted, who came suddenly upon them uttering blood-curdling war-whoops, and who rode wildly in a circle firing upon the travellers. And just as the deadly circle was closing in, and the whites were getting the worst of the fight, the crisp notes of a bugle sounding “Charge” were heard in the distance, and a troop of United States cavalrymen dashed gallantly to the rescue and drove off the Redskins.
Among other scenes there was given also the life of Pony Express Rider, that courageous servant of the government who, before the days of trains, delivered the mails on horseback, riding at top speed from station to station, stopping only long enough to change to a fresh horse, his path beset by all kinds of dangers from Indians and outlaws.
Then there were all sorts of contests in riding, shooting, roping, and horse-racing, for which prizes were offered. With the prospect of so much riding before them, it was natural for the girls to display a greater interest in the feats of horsemanship which they witnessed, than in anything else. And they never would have believed such riding possible had they not seen it with their own eyes. The cavalrymen gave an exhibition of what is known as the monkey-drill, or trick riding, which, as one of the boys afterwards said, was better than a circus. They ran beside their horses, and, with a leap, mounted without touching the stirrups; dismounted, still holding to the rein with one hand, and the saddle with the other, vaulted clear over the horses to the other side, ran a short distance, and leaped to the saddle again. Clinging to the sides of their mounts, they even crawled beneath their necks while at a gallop, without ever touching the ground, and scrambled up the other side and into the saddle again. One thrilling feature was when the men stood upon their horses’ backs; next upon two horses, with a foot upon each; then a third horse was placed between the two; and finally when another was added, and the rider galloped them around the arena four abreast, the spectators went wild with excitement, and thundered their applause.
At the end, after a wild steer was led forth, saddled, and ridden for the amusement of everybody, Marjorie had an opportunity to gratify her desire to see real bronco-busting, or the riding of horses which had never been broken. This was not done by the gradual method followed in breaking highly-bred animals; the broncos were simply roped, saddled and mounted. Of course, to make the contest more exciting, the most vicious horses procurable had been obtained; and many would not submit to being saddled until they were thrown and blindfolded. Then the animal, when he felt a man upon his back for the first time, used every ruse in his repertoire to throw him. The buck-jumpers, with their heads between their fore-legs, their backs arched, sprung straight into the air and came down again with their legs as rigid as iron bars, striking the ground with such force that many of the riders—men who had practically lived in the saddle—were sometimes shot like rockets into the air, to land sprawling upon the ground. Even wilder than these were the “weavers,” or horses which bucked with a peculiar writhing motion, the forelegs at an angle to one side and the hind-legs to the other side, and alternating them so quickly that unless the rider were properly relaxed above the hips, he was in danger of having his back-bone snapped by such quick, snake-like contortions. Only those of the spectators who had ridden could fully appreciate how difficult it was for the rider to keep his seat.
For some time Marjorie had been watching the business-like manner of a tall, black-haired young man with very long legs, who sat as limp as a rag in the saddle and appeared able to ride anything. Though hot, flushed, and covered with dust from his exertions, his boyish face looked familiar to the girl, and she turned to inquire about him of Mr. Hilton, who had also been watching him intently.
“You’ve picked the prize-winner this time, Marjorie,” replied the man. “Of course you remember him; he is Jonnie Owens, a professional horse-breaker who works on my ranch. ‘Fly-paper Jonnie’ the boys call him.”
“Oh, I’ve heard Bob speak of Flypaper, and I didn’t know what he meant,” laughed Marjorie. “But why the name?”
“Because he can stick on any cayuse that ever drew a breath,” answered Mr. Hilton, proudly. “Never saw anything that boy couldn’t ride; so I’m betting on him today.”
And it certainly looked as though the rancher stood a good chance of winning his bet. Horses were conquered and riders were thrown until, by the process of elimination, there remained to fight it out between them Jonnie Owens and a vicious buckskin horse, with wicked, blood-shot eyes, who had thrown every man who attempted to ride him.