Some notable sight was drawing the passengers, both men and women, to
the window; and therefore I rose and crossed the car to see what it was.
I saw near the track an enclosure, and round it some laughing men, and
inside it some whirling dust, and amid the dust some horses, plunging,
huddling, and dodging. They were cow ponies in a corral, and one of them
would not be caught, no matter who threw the rope. We had plenty of time
to watch this sport, for our train had stopped that the engine might
take water at the tank before it pulled us up beside the station
platform of Medicine Bow. We were also six hours late, and starving for
entertainment. The pony in the corral was wise, and rapid of limb. Have
you seen a skilful boxer watch his antagonist with a quiet, incessant
eye? Such an eye as this did the pony keep upon whatever man took the
rope. The man might pretend to look at the weather, which was fine; or
he might affect earnest conversation with a bystander: it was bootless.
The pony saw through it. No feint hoodwinked him. This animal was
thoroughly a man of the world. His undistracted eye stayed fixed upon
the dissembling foe, and the gravity of his horse-expression made the
matter one of high comedy. Then the rope would sail out at him, but he
was already elsewhere; and if horses laugh, gayety must have abounded in
that corral. Sometimes the pony took a turn alone; next he had slid in a
flash among his brothers, and the whole of them like a school of playful
fish whipped round the corral, kicking up the fine dust, and (I take it)
roaring with laughter. Through the window-glass of our Pullman the thud
of their mischievous hoofs reached us, and the strong, humorous curses
of the cow-boys. Then for the first time I noticed a man who sat on the
high gate of the corral, looking on. For he now climbed down with
the undulations of a tiger, smooth and easy, as if his muscles flowed
beneath his skin. The others had all visibly whirled the rope, some of
them even shoulder high. I did not see his arm lift or move. He appeared
to hold the rope down low, by his leg. But like a sudden snake I saw the
noose go out its length and fall true; and the thing was done. As the
captured pony walked in with a sweet, church-door expression, our train
moved slowly on to the station, and a passenger remarked, “That man
knows his business.”
But the passenger’s dissertation upon roping I was obliged to lose, for
Medicine Bow was my station. I bade my fellow-travellers good-by, and
descended, a stranger, into the great cattle land. And here in less than
ten minutes I learned news which made me feel a stranger indeed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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