Page:Boys' Life Mar 1, 1911.djvu/24



''The Scouts of today—the men who go in front—have all the wild places of the world for their workshop. They are busy men, and do all sorts of things (the hunter, the explorer, the railway builder, the cowboy, the missionary, all belong to the same strong tribe of pioneers), and adventure and danger are part of their daily life as they tread their difficult trails in the far corners of the world. In this series Mr. Roger Pocock, who knows his subject from actual personal experience, will deal with different pioneer types, and will tell you haw they work and how they live.''

MUST begin with a warning straight from the shoulder, that American boys who want to be cowboys have very little chance of getting wages. The splendid trade, which has bred the finest breed of manhood under the sun, is dying, and year after year hundreds of ranches are being cut up for farms or turned into pasturage for sheep. The railway companies charge so much for carrying cattle to market that they get the whole of the profits, so that the ranchers cannot earn a living and the cowboys are turned adrift.

But while an American youngster has scarcely any chance of becoming a cowboy in the old Rocky Mountain pasture or on the great plains of the West, I hear that in Australia the trade still prospers. However poor the wages, however hard the work, there are things to be had on the Australian stock range which are worth more than wealth or ease. A stock-rider gets a real education in manliness, self-reliance, generosity, honorable conduct, cleanness of heart, and I would not discourage any fellow from seeking these things in preference to money. Money is not everything.

But the business in hand is to describe the life of the Western American cowboy, and the man himself as I knew him on the range up to eight years ago. He is an American farmer's son, the scamp of the family, born with his blood on fire. In his tender youth he breaks away from home to earn his living in his own way. Once loose in the world, the American runaway finds the earth is not large enough until he gets into the saddle. Out on the wild, free range he learns the difficult trade of handling cattle—although not one chap in ten who attempts it has the courage, ability and endurance which will earn him a cowboy's wages.

If he does not get killed or thrown out as useless, he lives a life of perfect health, trained until his nerves are like steel, his hands like iron, his eyes clear as heaven. So he grows to manhood, free from the fetters of civilization, in the most dangerous, the worst-paid trade on earth. With dainty vanity he wears the dress of this trade of cavaliers—long boots, with a high heel like that of a lady, and big spurs, so blunt that they cannot hurt, which clash at his heels as he walks.

From waist to heel he wears loose leather armor, guarding the legs from injury from thorns, rocks or falling, keeping out the heat of the sun, shedding the snow and rain, warm as blankets at night. Sometimes these "shaps" are fronted with the hairy skin of bear, goat, or wolf. The shirt is of rough blue or gray flannel—never red, as in pictures and plays, because that color enrages cattle and is too dangerous to wear. Over the shirt men often wear a waistcoat loose for the sake of its pockets, and always a loose handkerchief round the neck to save the spine from sunstroke. The hat is of beaver felt, with a wide flat brim shading the eyes from sun and storm, and a leather string ties it on round the back of the head. A loose belt with cartridges slings a heavy revolver on the right thigh within easy reach, and this is needed for swift shooting in moments of peril from a bolting horse or from some charging bull.

A deep-seated saddle distributes the man's weight over four square feet of horse, and the steel horn rising at the front gives a purchase in throwing, the rope. This rope—a lasso—has a running noose, and is so thrown as to catch a running animal by neck or heels. The shock is taken at the horn of the saddle, while the pony braces himself astraddle, almost sitting down.

Each rider has his own “string" of six or seven ponies, who run with the pony herd. He "ropes" one of his ponies for each spell of work—one each for morning, afternoon, and night herd. Because he always has a fresh mount the cowboy is able to ride an average of fifty miles a day for eight months of the year, so that he covers twice as much ground as the swiftest cavalry on their hardest marches.

The ponies are about the size of our cab-horses, but their tails are long, and sometimes their eyes are mean. They are raised wild out on the open range, and when they see a man they are horribly frightened. One cannot blame the horses, when even the wolves and the grizzly bears will run at the very sight or smell of a cowboy. He is certainly the most dangerous of all wild animals. The little horses fly away, and find that by mistake they have run into a trap—a circular patch of ground ringed in with a fence so high that they cannot jump over—while behind them clangs the gate, which makes them prisoners.

They gallop round the corral, but presently the leading pony hears something whizz through the air, and a sharp white rope, catching him by one foot, throws him head over heels. Before he can get up to fight a cloth comes over his eyes, making him blind, and when he is allowed to rise it is to find a heavy saddle lashed to his body. Then a fiend with sharp thorns on the heels jumps on top of him, the sight is restored to his eyes, and the fight begins.

Far away back, thousands of years ago, before the horse had anything to do with man, the lions and tigers used to hunt him. They