“Yes; but not so many as you would suppose, for the horsemanship, in its particular way, is something wonderful. When an ugly steer is lassoed and he feels the reata or lariat round his neck, he sometimes turns and ‘makes’ for the horse, and unless the vaquero is particularly skilful he will be gored and his horse too; but he gives a dexterous turn to the lariat, the animal steps over it, gets tangled and thrown. Frequently an animal breaks a horn or a leg. Sometimes one fall is not enough; the steer jumps up and pursues the horse. Then the vaquero keeps a little ahead of him and leads him back to the rodeo-ground, where another vaquero lassos him by the hind legs and throws him, while the reata is taken off his neck.”
“There is another danger, too,” added Dr. Winship. “The vaquero winds the reata very tightly round the pommel of his saddle to hold the steer, and he is likely to have his finger caught in the hair-rope and cut off.”
“Yes, I forgot that. Two or three of the famous old vaqueros about Santa Barbara—José María, José Antonio, and old Clemente—have each lost a finger. Well, the vaqueros at length form in a circle round the band of selected cattle. The ranch owner who gives the rodeo takes his own cattle that he has found—the ones bearing his brand, you know—and drives them in with the ones to be branded, leaving in the rodeo-ground the cattle bearing the brands of all the other rancheros. There has been much drinking of aguardiente (brandy) and everybody by this time is pretty reckless. Then they drive this selected band to the home corral, the vaqueros yelling, the cattle ‘calling,’ and the reatas whizzing and whistling through the air. If any unfortunate tries to escape his fate he is pursued, ‘lass’d,’ and brought back. By this time the cattle are pretty well heated and angry, and when they get into the crowded corral they horn each other and try to gore the horses. A fire is then built in one corner of the corral and the branding-irons are heated.”
“Oh! hold my hand, Polly, if the branding is going to begin, I hate it so,” exclaimed Elsie.
“I won’t say much about it, but it’s no worse than a thousand things that people have to bear every year of their lives. Animals never have to have teeth filled, for instance, nor limbs amputated—”
“Oh, just think of a calf with a wooden leg, or a cow with false teeth! Wouldn’t it be funny?” laughed Bell.
“They don’t have a thousand ills that human flesh is heir to, so they must be thankful they get off so easy. Well! the branding-irons are heated, as I say—each cattle-owner having his special brand, which is properly recorded, and which may be any device not previously used. Two men now catch the calves; one lassoing them by the head, the other by the legs. A third man takes the iron from the fire and brands the chosen letter or hieroglyphic on the animal’s hind quarter.”
“Sometimes on the fore quarter, don’t they?” asked Bell. “I’ve seen brands there,—your horse has two, and our cow has one also.”
“Yes, a brand on the fore quarter shows that the animal has been sold, but it always has the original brand on the hind quarter. When a sale is effected, the new brand is put anywhere in front of the fifth rib, and this constitutes what they call a venta, or sale. If you notice some of the little ‘plugs’ ridden by Santa Barbara boys, you’ll see that they bear half a dozen brands. By the way, if the rodeo has been a very large one, they are several days branding the cattle, so they are turned out to pastorear a little while each day.”
“The brand was absolute sign of ownership, you know, girls,” said Dr. Winship; “and though there was the greatest care exercised in choosing and recording the brands, there was plenty of opportunity for cheating. For instance, a man would often see unbranded cattle when riding about, and there was nothing to prevent his dismounting, building a fire, heating his iron, and putting his own brand on them. Then, at the next rodeo, they were simply turned over to him, for, as I say, the brand was absolute ownership.”