I built cattle stables, horse stables, and fences all out of logs of spruce, and during the five months I was there I broke twelve or fourteen horses to the saddle. None were very bad, and I was never thrown again in Calgary, though I had a rather nasty experience with a half-broken mare. She was seven years old, and had never had a rope on her, but in a couple of weeks, during odd times, I broke her and thought she was gentle. Her only fault had been rearing, and she never bucked or kicked. One day I put on my best tight riding-breeches and top-boots, and started off to show her to some friends of mine on Sheep Creek, about sixteen miles away. About a mile from our shack I had to cross Pine Creek, which has high steep banks, but luckily very little water. Going up the opposite bank the mare suddenly took it into her head to rear, and the next instant we were off the bank and into the creek. I fell clear on my feet; but the mare, falling square on her back, had buried the horn and pommel of the saddle in the bottom of the creek, and could not turn over. I grabbed her head, and could just keep her muzzle out of the water, though the rest of her was under. I shouted and shouted, and emptied my pistol, and did all I knew to attract attention, till finally, after about twenty minutes which seemed hours, the local scout of the mounted police came to see what was up, and helped me to get the mare out. My clothes were a sight, and I split the knees of my riding-breeches as I fell. I had learned to rope fairly well on foot, but never made much of a success of it on horseback. By the way, the word “lasso” is never heard in the cattle country; the phrase is “roping.” After I had learned to rope stumps, and could catch Bill two throws out of three, I began to think I was a star. I went to a local round-up on Pine Creek, and went into the corral to get out a mare and yearling colt that belonged to us. I was rather nervous after I once was in, but made my throw after the approved fashion from the ground, and to my amazement captured the mare and colt in the same loop. I had a gay ten minutes; but some of the boys, after they got through laughing, came to my assistance, roped the mare by the legs, threw her, and got my rope off. In a corral it is not permissible to whirl a rope round your head, as it frightens the animals, but the throw must be made from the ground, where the coil is spread out. Only in Buffalo Bill shows, where it gives more flourish to the proceedings, and sometimes when roping from a horse at the gallop, is this done—_i.e._ whirling the rope—and I have seen good ropers, both in Canada and Texas, even in the latter case trail a rope behind and throw it with one forward swing. Another point about ropes is never to tie one to the horn of your saddle while riding, if you have anything at the other end. I had gone out one day to bring in a two-year-old heifer from a neighbouring ranch. After getting my rope on her horns, I took