Well, a lucky thing I had my rope that we had caught the pack horse with. So I picked it up and we started after the horses on foot. They run about a mile and stopped and went to feeding—but when we caught up with them, one of our saddle horses would drag his bridle reins around some of the horses’ legs and scare them—and away they would go again. Finally we got the bunch in between us and one of the pack horses had his head down feeding—I made a run at him and when he put his head up to run I throwed my rope and caught him. We unpacked him and I got on him bareback, with a rope around his nose, and rounded up the bunch and brought them back to where Tom was. He had made a loop in the pack rope and caught his saddle horse. And after a good many trials of roping, we caught my horse. When we got our horse packed again and on our way, we were sure a couple of happy boys. Tom told me I sure made a lucky throw when I caught that pack horse. In my younger days as a cowboy I had a hobby on saddles. I always wanted a light saddle with as little leather on it as possible. I used to use a Clarence Nelson saddle, made in Visalia, California, which was about the smallest and lightest stock saddle made in those days. Then after I had got it, I would trim and cut off all the leather I possibly could get along without. Tom Daly always rode a double rig saddle and wanted it quite heavy. He was always making fun of my saddle and said I might as well ride bareback. One time a big prairie fire broke out and the best thing we used to have to fight those fires was a “green” or fresh cowhide. We could tie a couple of ropes to it and with our saddle horses drag it along the fire line. If the blaze wasn’t too big, it would smother the fire out completely. This fire broke out close to our roundup, and we had a big jaw steer in our roundup and he wasn’t any value as a beef steer. So the boss told the boys to catch him and kill and skin him and use his hide for a drag to put the fire out. Everybody got their ropes down in a hurry. Tom roped the steer by the head and I caught him by one hind leg. He weighed about 1,500 pounds and Tom was riding a big strong horse, and when he saw I had the steer by the hind leg he never looked back but was spurring his horse and pulling on the steer to try to throw him down so we could cut his throat, as nobody had a gun. My horse wasn’t too well broke to roping, but I got my rope fast to the saddle horn and Tom was pulling so fast and so hard, it must of hurt my horse and he went to bucking. I couldn’t get my rope loose from the saddle horn and I hollered at Tom—but he kept right on going and pulled me—saddle and all—off the horse. The boys joshed me plenty about my little saddle. I asked Tom why he didn’t stop when I hollered. He said he didn’t know I was riding bareback or he would.