TH HIS is the battle-cry of a new outdoor and indoor sport that originated in the West and has finally penetrated to the innermost East. Variously called the Stampede, the Round-Up, the Rodeo, it has a common parentage, and is rapidly coming to have a common form. And the slogan is everywhere the same, "Ride 'im, cowboy!" and the companion phrase, "Let 'er buck!" Even New York has been treated to a performance of this wild horse-play born of the old cattle days and the open range. The line of descent of the Stampede leads through the Wild West Show, but it can be traced definitely enough. In the days of the open range everybody rode. Everybody had to ride, but some men rode better than others. When these "top-notchers" combined with their skill in horsemanship a sufficient amount of dare-devil courage, they became known as "busters." It was their province to break the string for the other riders. Sometimes when the outfit was big enough they were permanently attached, as BY ALBERT BRITT were the other riders; sometimes they went from place to place, breaking "by the day or week." The breaking was usually a rather perfunctory performance. If the buster stayed with the horse till he stopped bucking, that horse was considered broken and probably was. That didn't mean that he wouldn't buck again. Few were the range horses that ever fully forsook the vice of pitching. Sometimes this would take the form of a few "crowhops" when his rider backed him in the morning, and sometimes it was a really serious attempt to "pile" his man. In either case it was of short duration and usually little more than an expression of high spirits at the start of a new day. Occasionally a horse would be found that never gave over being a chronic bucker, an "outlaw." These were of little value in the string, and were soon disposed of. Once in a blue moon would be found a horse that was not only an outlaw but a "killer," an equine murderer that would fight his rider with hoofs and even teeth. Even in the palmiest days Photograph by Fred Armbrister, Lake Louise THE CALGARY STAMPEDE "FANNING HIM" of the open range few men could be found who could say that they had ever seen a killer, and when such a one was found his fate was apt to be a bullet through the brain. Although bronco-busting as a sport grew out of the day's work of the cattle country, it was never a sport in those days. Horses earned their keep by hard work, as did the men, and the horse that was likely to set his rider afoot twenty-five or fifty miles from home was not apt to be long among those present. No one knows precisely when or where the first exhibition of rough riding was held, but it was probably somewhere in the Southwest. The cattle business as it flourished in the seventies and early eighties was copied, borrowed, and stolen from Mexico, where the Spaniards had planted it. The cattle were Spanish in origin, as were most of the horses. So also was the saddle gear with the wide stirrups and the high pommel and cantle. The riata, or lariat, or more recently "rope," were also Mexican in origin, and for many years the best ropers were the Mexicans who gravitated to the big outfits north of the Rio Grande. Undoubtedly the " earliest contests grew out of the ri valry of one outfit with another. Men talked and thought and dreamed cattle and horses, and to back a preference with a bet was as natural as to have a preference. The two things went together. Buffalo Bill and his rivals and imitators saw the chance to turn this Wild West horsemanship to commercial advantage. Most of the riders of those earlier "Bill" shows, as they were called among showmen, were, or had been, working cowboys. To that extent the Wild West Show was a genuine exposition of the life of the range, although the bucking was usu ally of the straight-ahead variety that almost any cow-horse could deliver on slight provocation. These exhibitions were embroidered with fancy and trick roping, trick riding, a stagecoach hold-up, an alleged pony express ride, and similar events advanced as typical of the Old West. The riding and the roping were still close enough to the time of their origin to be fairly truthful in a historical sense. As the old cattle days faded into the background of our rapidly growing history Western communities awakened to the opportunity and the need for keeping alive their memory, and nothing was more natural than that it should be done in a way to pay its own cost and in some cases to provide a profit. In this way grew up Chey enne's Frontier Day, Denver's Festival of Mountain and Plain, the Stampede at Calgary, the Pendleton Round-Up, Salinas's Rodeo, and countless smaller affairs. At the present time there are probably close to two hundred of these shows, large and small, held between June and October, from the Mexican line to Edmonton. Some of them are one-day contests, staged on a convenient ranch, confined mostly to local riders, and with small compensation in the way of prizes. These meetings are more typical of the country and smack more of the ranch than do the larger, with their joint suggestion of the county fair and the circus. Recently Calgary, the metropolis of Alberta, staged a Stampede that ran for a week and drew an attendance of close to a hundred and thirty thousand people. Probably this was close to the top notch of wild-horse exhibitions. While the majority of the riders were Canadians, with a fair sprinkling of Indians and "breeds," there was a representation from this side of the line of both horses and men. The pro gramme was varied enough to satisfy any one, running from wild-horse riding and racing to calf roping and buckboard racing. Lest any one should misunderstand my references to county fairs and circuses, let me say that the riding of a bucking horse is a grim reality to both -horse and rider. The riders draw their horses by lot the night before each day's contest, so that there is no picking of easy spectacular buckers that pitch high and straight-away for a few jumps and then settle into a run. Nor would it avail them much if they did this, for the judges are wise in bucking lore and give a higher ranking to the man who gives a fair ride on a mean horse than to the fellow who "fans" an easy one to make it look wild and rough. This style of riding is something more than merely staying with your horse. To begin with, the horses must be ridden "slick" that is, without hobbling the stirrups to the cinch. One hand must be free and held out, so that there may be no doubt in the judges' minds of the honesty of the ride. There is no bridle; the ride is with a halter only with a single braided rope rein, and this is the only handhold the rider is permitted. To clutch at the mane or to "pull leather" means the end of the rider. To cap the climax, the rider is required to spur his mount both fore and aft in the first half-dozen jumps. Fail to do this, and the crowd will shout, "Scratch him! You ain't scratchin' him!" Failure on this last point does not mean disqualification; merely a proportionately lower mark. The horses are saddled and mounted in a chute so narrow as not to permit the horse to turn or throw himself Photograph by Fred Armbrister, Lake Louise THE CALGARY STAMPEDE-BREAKING A WILD 'UN backward. Then at the word from the rider the chute is thrown open, and out comes the bucker, sunfishing, twisting, squealing, sometimes reaching for the rider's foot with bared teeth. If the rider stays till the whistle that marks the end of the ride, his next problem is to dismount, for few horses recognize the whistle as ending their part of the performance. This is where the "pick-up" men come into the picture. Their job is to ride close alongside the still bucking horse and while one seizes him by the rein another snatches the rider from the saddle. There are accidents a-plenty, some of them ridiculous, some serious. The wise rider lies flat when he is thrown, to present as small a target as possible to flying hoofs. One luckless buster at Calgary who neglected this precaution went to the hospital with a fractured skull. Two or three had minor fractures of legs or arms, but the proportion of casualties to the numbers engaged and the apparent risks was small. On one of the Calgary days a night rain had left an inviting mud-hole in front of the chutes. Early in the bucking contests a horse came out pitching straight and high. On the third jump the rider lost his stirrup and sailed gracefully through the air to land face down in the deepest, softest, muddiest part of this quagmire. He emerged deaf, dumb, and blind from mud, but sputtering and gesticulating vigorously. The crowd roared its ironical applause for his good judgment in picking a soft landing. Most of the riding in this event is professional, or nearly so. The prizes are large enough to the winners to tempt the adventurous with a weakness for the alluring combination of horseflesh and the limelight. There are many variations of this bucking saturnalia. For example, there is the wild-horse racing. In this event the horses are led out from the corral attired only in a halter with a shank, or lead rope, of the usual length. Three men are allowed to each horse. At the signal these three are required to saddle the horse, and then one of them must mount him and ride across the field and through a corral gate some hundred and fifty yards away. This may sound easy in cold print, but the spectacle of ten or a dozen wild horses rearing and whirling, sometimes dragging their captors along the ground, blundering into each other, dodging the upraised saddles, throwing themselves backward, is anything but commonplace or placid. In the haste of saddling cinches are sometimes left loose, and more than one rider dismounts over his horse's head accompanied by his saddle. Once mounted, his troubles are only beginning. His bitless, panicstricken horse can be guided only by jerking of the halter shank and by waving a hand or a hat alongside his head. Once turned, he is likely to continue turning, and his rider finds himself headed back in the opposite direction. The first man in the saddle is quite often among the last to reach the goal. More than once a stubborn bronc will wheel and wheel again at the very gate of the corral and the rider must watch later comers canter through to victory minutes after his own horse almost stuck his head through into the promised land. The most sporting of all the Stampede sports is the calf roping. Lest any one should think that this savors of cruelty to infants, let me say that the odds are all on the calves. Day after day I have watched the budding Herefords turned loose to gallop across the rope thrown on the ground for a starting line, and three properly roped out of a dozen starters is a good average. Like New York taxis, calves start and stop quickly, and their short wheel-base gives them a turning radius that makes even an agile cowhorse look clumsy. The roper who doesn't overhaul his scudding, bawling prey in the first hundred yards has little chance for victory. And there is something amusingly insolent in the twinkling feet and the arrogantly waving tail. The throw at this tiny, fleeing target must be both accurate and lucky. Make the loop too small, and you ask too much of the gods of luck. Make it large, and you are likely to see the calf leap through it in triumph and go bawling off to seek maternal comfort. Either way the rider comes back grinning sheepishly to face the jeers of the crowd as he recoils his fruitless rope. Another contest that is full of color and motion and thrills-and laughsis the wild-cow-milking contest. A dozen or fifteen cows are turned loose to be caught with a rope and held while the milker fills a pop bottle. The Herefords of the well-known open spaces are not highly domestic in their tastes, and being milked is one of the things about which they are not enthusiastic. Once the rope is firmly on the lady's horns, the real fun begins. She still has a twenty-foot radius in which to maneuver and the best will in the world to make it hard for the breathless milker. That poor soul has been running after his roper all over the lot so as to be ready to go into action as soon as the roping is accomplished. By this time more than one harassed cow has decided that valor, The bottles must be not only full It would never do to omit reference this purpose almost any steer can be regarded as wild. Here the rules are elastic. About all that is necessary is to stay on-and that ought to be enough. A to the steer riding. For!!! surcingle is cinched around the steer abaft the forelegs, and the rider is allowed to hold to this with both hands and, if he desires, with his teeth. And at that the odds are on the steer and the rider is lucky if the steer doesn't turn and chase him ignominiously over the fence in addition to dumping him hard enough to break any number of normal bones. But the job can be done. On the third day of the Calgary Stampede a man in a clown costume came out of one of the chutes riding a steer backward-and rode him to a finish. After all, some men ride better than others. Calgary wisely barred steer bulldogging. This, it should be explained to the uninitiated, consists in riding alongside a running steer and throwing yourself easily and gracefully from the horse to the steer's neck or shoulders and throwing him by horns and nose. Calgary barred it, not be cause it was dangerous for men, but because it was too hard on the steers. This, too, originated near the Texas border. The first man to illustrate the superiority of man over steer used his teeth also, gripping the steer's nose with his incisors. I have been told by men who have tried it that it is exciting but not dangerous. Perhaps it is, but only in comparison with teasing a Bengal tiger or going over the top on a foggy morning. There, then, are the headliners of this Western sport. The open range |