Jack the Young Cowboy: An Eastern Boy's Experiance on a Western Round-up

by George Bird Grinnell

The words were scarcely out of Vicente's mouth, when the bear gave a great bawl and then lay still, except for a few convulsive quivers. As Vicente had foretold, he had died of rage. The boys watched him closely, and gradually they saw his eyes grow dull.

"Well," said Jack, "I'm sorry that the old fellow died. It seems as if it would have been better for him to have been killed by a bullet than to die in this way."

"Yes," responded Donald, "it does seem sort of an ignominious death to be caught and stretched out on the prairie like this, perfectly helpless. On the other hand, if he had ever gotten a wipe at one of our horses with those paws of his, I am afraid that there would not have been much left of the horse."

"We may as well get our ropes back again," said Joe, "and go ahead about our business. Do you boys want to take off the hide? It'll make a pretty good robe for one of you."

"I should like very much to have it, if nobody else wants it," said Donald. "How do you feel about it, Jack?"

"Why," replied Jack, "if you want it, you had better have it, and Joe and me here will help you take the hide off. It's no joke to skin a bear. It takes a long time and is hard work, and you get covered with grease while you're doing it. However, we may as well pitch in and get it out of the way."

"Well," drawled Vicente; "me, I goin' off to look for cattle; when you get ready, suppose you come along."

"All right," answered Jack. "It won't take us very long. We will put the hide on Donald's horse, and then Joe and I will hurry on to catch up with you."

Nevertheless, it was nearly an hour before the hide was freed from the carcass and done up in as compact a bundle as possible; and then ten or fifteen minutes more had to be devoted to the work of getting it on Donald's horse, for the animal wholly objected to the smell of the load. At last, however, the work was completed and Donald mounted; but no sooner had the blind been lifted from the horse's eyes than it began to pitch, and so furiously and long that the boys feared that Donald might be thrown and hurt. They threw their ropes over the horse's head, and called to Donald to dismount. He did not greatly care to do this, but finally did so, and the boys advised him to turn about and go home, leading his horse at least for a mile or two before attempting to mount it. They would go on and finish their circle, and would then come around to the camp.

Before he began his walk to camp Donald saw the other boys mount their horses and ride off over the hills. As soon as he started, his horse began to make trouble for him. It began by bucking hard at the end of the rope, and Donald was somewhat uneasy lest either the strings which bound the hide on the horse's back should stretch, or come loose, or else the saddle should shift. In this case he would lose his hide, for once on the ground it was not likely that one man could tie it on the horse again. Fortunately, everything held, for Tulare Joe before leaving him had carefully gone over all the fastenings. Even after the horse had ceased bucking, it was very uneasy, looking back at its load and trying to bolt, or occasionally swerving from side to side and dragging Donald about on the end of the rope. He had not had sufficient experience with a rope to understand how to hold a horse effectively, and sometimes he was dragged along, with arms outstretched, for a number of yards over the prairie, before the horse yielded to the pull of the rope. A man of greater experience would readily have stopped the horse in a number of its rushes by throwing his right hand behind his hip and then leaning back against the rope, but Donald had not yet learned how to do this and during his long walk back to camp he suffered much discomfort because of his lack of knowledge.