“Don’t mention it. Uncle Doc has asked me to tell Mrs. Howard and Elsie how they carried on the rodeos ten or fifteen years ago. Of course I was only a little chap”—(“Very little,” murmured his sister)—“but never too small to stick on a horse, and my father used often to take me along. The rodeos nowadays are neither as great occasions, nor as exciting ones, as they used to be; but this is the way a rodeo is managed. When the spring rains are mostly over, and the grass is fine,—say in April—the ranchero of a certain ranch sends word to all his neighbours that he will hold a rodeo on a certain day or days. Of course the cattle used to stray all over the country, and get badly mixed, as there were no fences; so the rodeo was held for the purpose of separating the cattle and branding the calves that had never been marked.
“The owners of the various ranches assemble the night before, bringing their vaqueros with them. They start out very early in the morning, having had a cup of coffee, and ride to the ‘rodeo-ground,’ which is any flat, convenient place where cañons converge. Many of the cattle on the hills round about know the place, having been there before, and the vaqueros start after them and drive them to the spot.”
“How many vaqueros would there be?” asked Elsie.
“Oh, nine or ten, perhaps; and often from one thousand to three thousand cattle—it depends on the number of ranches and cattle represented. Some of the vaqueros form a circle round the cattle that they have driven to the rodeo-ground, and hold them there while others go back to the ranch for breakfast and fresh horses.”
“Fresh horses so soon?” said Mrs. Howard. “I thought the mustangs were tough, hardy little beasts, that would go all day without dropping.”
“Yes, so they are; but you always have to begin to ‘part out’ the cattle with the freshest and best-trained horses you have. The owners and their best vaqueros now go into the immense band of cattle, and try to get the cows and the unbranded calves separated from the rest. You can imagine what skilful engineering this takes, even though you never saw it. Two work together; they start a certain cow and calf and work them through the band of cattle until they near the outside, and then ‘rush’ them to a place three or four hundred yards beyond, where other vaqueros are stationed to receive and hold them. Of course the cattle don’t want to leave the band, and of course they don’t want to stay in the spot to which they are driven.”
“I don’t blame them!” cried Bell impetuously. “Probably the cows remember the time when they were branded themselves, and they don’t want their dear little bossies put through the same operation.”
“Very likely. Then more cows and calves are started in the same way; the greatest difficulty being had with the first lot, for the cattle always stay more contentedly together as the group grows larger. Occasionally one ‘breaks’ and runs off on the hills, and a vaquero starts after him, throws the reata and lassos him, or ‘lass’s’ him, as the California boys say.”
“There must be frightful accidents,” said Mrs. Winship.