Arizona Sketches [15]
The horse stands braced pulling on the rope which has been made fast to the horn of the saddle by a few skillful turns. The cowboy is out of the saddle and on his feet in a jiffy. He grasps the prostrate animal by the tail and a hind leg, throws it on its side, and ties its four feet together, so that it is helpless and ready for branding or inspection. The cowboys have tying contests in which a steer is sometimes caught and tied in less time than a minute.
It is a comical sight to see an unhorsed cowboy chase his runaway horse on foot as he is almost sure to do if caught in such a predicament. He ought to know that he cannot outrun his fleet steed in such a race, but seems to be impelled by some strange impulse to make the attempt. After he has run himself out of breath he is liable to realize the folly of his zeal and adopt a more sensible method for capturing his horse.
The cowboy who works on the southwestern range has good cause to fear the malodorous hydrophobia skunk. At a round-up all of the cowboys sleep on the ground. During the night, while they are asleep, the little black and white cat-like animal forages through the camp for something to eat. Without provocation the skunk will attack the sleeper and fasten its sharp teeth in some exposed portion of his anatomy, either the nose or a finger or toe and will not let go until it is killed or forcibly removed. The wound thus made usually heals quickly and the incident is, perhaps, soon forgotten; but after several weeks or months hydrophobia suddenly develops and proves fatal in a short time.
The only known cure for the bite of the skunk is the Pasteur treatment and, since its discovery, as soon as anyone is bitten, he is immediately sent to the Pasteur Institute in Chicago for treatment.
CHAPTER VI RANCH HAPPENINGS
Ranch life is often full of thrilling incidents and adventures. The cowboy in his travels about the country looking after cattle, hunting wild game or, in turn, being hunted by yet wilder Indians, finds plenty of novelty and excitement to break any fancied monotony which might be considered as belonging to ranch life. In a number of visits to the range country during the past twenty years, the writer has had an opportunity to observe life on a ranch, and experience some of its exciting adventures.
One day in the summer of 1891, Dave Drew, our foreman, Tedrow, one of the cowboys, and myself, made a trip into East Canon in the Dos Cabezas mountains, in search of some large unbranded calves which had been seen running there. We rode leisurely along for some time and passed several small bunches of cattle without finding what we were looking for. As we neared a bend in the canon, Dave, who rode in advance, saw some cattle lying in the shade of a grove of live oak trees. Instantly he spurred his horse into a run and chased after the cattle at full speed, at the same time looking back and shouting that he saw two mavericks and for us to hurry up and help catch them. It was a bad piece of ground to cover and we found it difficult to make progress or to even keep each other in sight. Tedrow hurried up as fast as he could while I brought up the rear.
In trying to get through in the direction that Dave had gone, we tried to make a short cut in order to gain time, but soon found our way completely blocked by immense boulders and dense thickets of cat-claw bushes, which is a variety of mesquite covered with strong, sharp, curved thorns. We turned back to find a better road and after some time spent in hunting an opening we discovered a dim trail which soon led us into a natural park of level ground hidden among the foothills. Here we found Dave who alone had caught and tied down both the calves and was preparing to start a fire to heat the branding irons. What he had done seemed like magic and was entirely incomprehensible to an inexperienced tenderfoot.
Dave explained afterwards that to be successful in such a race much depended on taking the cattle by surprise, and then by a quick, bold dash start them running up
It is a comical sight to see an unhorsed cowboy chase his runaway horse on foot as he is almost sure to do if caught in such a predicament. He ought to know that he cannot outrun his fleet steed in such a race, but seems to be impelled by some strange impulse to make the attempt. After he has run himself out of breath he is liable to realize the folly of his zeal and adopt a more sensible method for capturing his horse.
The cowboy who works on the southwestern range has good cause to fear the malodorous hydrophobia skunk. At a round-up all of the cowboys sleep on the ground. During the night, while they are asleep, the little black and white cat-like animal forages through the camp for something to eat. Without provocation the skunk will attack the sleeper and fasten its sharp teeth in some exposed portion of his anatomy, either the nose or a finger or toe and will not let go until it is killed or forcibly removed. The wound thus made usually heals quickly and the incident is, perhaps, soon forgotten; but after several weeks or months hydrophobia suddenly develops and proves fatal in a short time.
The only known cure for the bite of the skunk is the Pasteur treatment and, since its discovery, as soon as anyone is bitten, he is immediately sent to the Pasteur Institute in Chicago for treatment.
CHAPTER VI RANCH HAPPENINGS
Ranch life is often full of thrilling incidents and adventures. The cowboy in his travels about the country looking after cattle, hunting wild game or, in turn, being hunted by yet wilder Indians, finds plenty of novelty and excitement to break any fancied monotony which might be considered as belonging to ranch life. In a number of visits to the range country during the past twenty years, the writer has had an opportunity to observe life on a ranch, and experience some of its exciting adventures.
One day in the summer of 1891, Dave Drew, our foreman, Tedrow, one of the cowboys, and myself, made a trip into East Canon in the Dos Cabezas mountains, in search of some large unbranded calves which had been seen running there. We rode leisurely along for some time and passed several small bunches of cattle without finding what we were looking for. As we neared a bend in the canon, Dave, who rode in advance, saw some cattle lying in the shade of a grove of live oak trees. Instantly he spurred his horse into a run and chased after the cattle at full speed, at the same time looking back and shouting that he saw two mavericks and for us to hurry up and help catch them. It was a bad piece of ground to cover and we found it difficult to make progress or to even keep each other in sight. Tedrow hurried up as fast as he could while I brought up the rear.
In trying to get through in the direction that Dave had gone, we tried to make a short cut in order to gain time, but soon found our way completely blocked by immense boulders and dense thickets of cat-claw bushes, which is a variety of mesquite covered with strong, sharp, curved thorns. We turned back to find a better road and after some time spent in hunting an opening we discovered a dim trail which soon led us into a natural park of level ground hidden among the foothills. Here we found Dave who alone had caught and tied down both the calves and was preparing to start a fire to heat the branding irons. What he had done seemed like magic and was entirely incomprehensible to an inexperienced tenderfoot.
Dave explained afterwards that to be successful in such a race much depended on taking the cattle by surprise, and then by a quick, bold dash start them running up