Still, as they
only have a couple of horses apiece, it saves them much extra running.
These men do not use the rope, unless to noose a pony in a corral, but
work their cattle in strong log corrals, which are made at about a day's
march apart all through the woods. Indeed, ropes are hardly necessary,
since the cattle are so small and thin that two men can successfully
"wrestle" a three-year-old. A man goes into the corral, grabs a cow by
one horn, and throwing his other arm over her back, waits until some
other man takes her hind leg, whereat ensues some very entertaining
Graeco-Roman style.
When the cow is successful, she finds her audience of Cracker cowboys
sitting on the fence awaiting another opening, and gasping for breath.
The best bull will not go over three hundred pounds, while I have seen a
yearling at a hundred and fifty--if you, O knights of the riata, can
imagine it! Still, it is desperate work. Some of the men are so reckless
and active that they do not hesitate to encounter a wild bull in the
open. The cattle are as wild as deer, they race off at scent; and when
"rounded up" many will not drive, whereupon these are promptly shot. It
frequently happens that when the herd is being driven quietly along a
bull will turn on the drivers, charging at once. Then there is a scamper
and great shooting. The bulls often become so maddened in these forays
that they drop and die in their tracks, for which strange fact no one
can account, but as a rule they are too scrawny and mean to make their
handling difficult.
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