The Normal Record. March 1899

              THE NORMAL RECORD.
to see me, so, consequently, I saw no objection to "locating" there, although my
real destination was near the town of Al-
turas, twenty miles away.
But South Fork really was a pretty place,
and I enjoyed being there in more ways than
the above mentioned. Through the valley
ran a branch of the Pitt River, which, descending near Redding, makes a visible relation 'twixt here and there. The meadows
swarmed with hay-makers, and timothy and
wild grass made green the whole valley.
One cause of my enjoyment was the presence of an old settler who was too old to
work, yet spry enough and willing to fish
and tell stories. Trout were in abundance
nearby, and during one afternoon and the
next morning we caught about two hundred
and fifty. Most of them were of the yellow,
speckled kind, but I can assure you that the
color did not detract from their taste.
I beg the reader's pardon for these diversions, but I really have wandered from my
purpose—that of telling you of a trip on the
rodeo and incidents connected with it. Modoc
is to be remembered as the greatest stock-
raising county in California, and the cattle
or horse men there have large ranges which
they hold by some means or another for their
stock. A favorite mode of doing this is to
"file" on the springs in the mountains, thus
monopolizing the water supply and effectually
cutting off all competition for the range.
Being invited to accompany a party on a
"round up" of all the horses and mules belonging to them, I accepted and prepared
eagerly for the trip. I came near not going,
however, for as I was mounting my horse,
which was a real bronco, he started on a
dead run, taking me with him, with my left
foot in the stirrup and my right hand holding
on to the back of the saddle. This raised
quite a commotion at the time, but, as luck
would have it, I was enabled to gain the
saddle and thus averted for myself an impromptu finis.
We were to go into the mountains, gather
up all the horses and drive them to what was
known as the "horse camp." It was nearly
noon before we found many horses, but now
they began to appear in large numbers.
These "buckaroos," which is the vulgar form
of the Spanish expression, "vaquero," pre
sent a fine appearance riding, and the way
they will send a bare-hoofed horse over a
rocky hill might make a sentimental lawyer
give expression to the form, "Cruelty to
Animals." But they don't appreciate criticism, and they have reason enough. The
business of rounding up horses requires quick
decision and quicker work. An incident will
suffice to prove this. A part of the band of
horses broke away and started up a small
valley. As I was on the side of this valley,
it became my duty to head them off. I
started off briskly enough, but coming to a
place where a sort of slate rock predominated, which hurt my horse's hoofs, I let him
walk. The band consequently escaped, and I
received the blame. This taught me the
principle of quick action.
After riding till late in the afternoon, we
had some three hundred horses at the camp.
The horse camp was a lonely-looking place;
surrounded by sagebrush and dust, it stood
the only visible monument to civilization for
miles around. When riding on the range
horses are changed every half day, and every
time they must be broken over. To do this
the riders cinch their saddles on them
tightly, then give them the length of the
lariat and let them take their freshness out
on the saddle alone. Then they mount them,
make them buck until they are tired and then
settle down to business.
The next morning when we went to the
corral nearly all the horses had escaped, and
we were compelled to perform much of outwork over.
I saw one sight which to me was awe-inspiring and wonderful. There was one old
white bell-mare, and twenty-five young mules
followed her. Wherever she would go they
would go, and at every surprise they flocked
about her until the poor thing couldn't move.
Indeed, their attention was so concentrated
upon her that she hardly had time to feed,
and I think that I received the news that she
died that fall from the effects of their constant attention.
"Teach me your mood, O patient stars !
Who climb each night the ancient sky,
Leaving no space, no shade, no scars,
No trace of age, no fear to die."
— H. /A". Emerson.