BREAKING IN AN AMERICAN BRONCHO.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXVIII, Issue 8538, 11 April 1891, Page 2 (Supplement)

BREAKING IN AN AMERICAN BRONCHO.

There are few subjects which an Englishman discusses with mora vigour than the s breaking-in of horses, and, as a rule, there are none which he knows less about. If he have personal experience to add weight to his arguments, he is generally enamoured of some theory which he would apply in every case; and is indignant when he hears thafc a horse has been trained to obedience in any Other way. I would ask all those who wish to understand the task a western breaker of horses sometimes has before him to accompany me upon a little journey of five thousand milo3 or so, to stand, as I stood some years ago, on the box of an old lumber-waggon, and peep into the corral of one Colonel Jenson, a breeder of horses in New Mexico. It was early in the afternoon of a warm day in August, and business was to begin in a few minutes. Colonel Jenson's foreman stood beside me in the waggon, and haif-a-dozen cowboys wero perched on the stableroof opposite. Below us was the corral, an enclosure about fifty yards square, and in the corral was the horse which was -to receive its first lesson in obedience this day. I was very sceptical as to the interest of the event. The broncho was not very big, nor very beautiful. He only stood fifteen hands, and was lightly built—anything but a formidable beast to look at, the only distinctive points about him being a Roman nose and a restless eye. I could not help remarking upon his mild appearanoe to Ezekiel Yates, the foreman. Ezekiel was a short, bow-legged man, with a wizened, clean-shaven face, sharp as a weasel's, round as an oak-apple, and nearly as brown. .When I made my observations in the dignified tone of assurance natural to , a man who had only been out West four weeks, Ezekiel's bright little eyes gleamed with amusement. " Quiet ? That is so. It is a way of every Specie of devil in this country. You would get inside the gate, would ye, to improve your acquaintance with him ? I dessay you would. I will undertako to lay my life that there ain't in all this world a greater fool than an Englishman. Nay, nay, do not hold back. I would not spoil the chance of & man findin' a short road to Heaven for a fold dollar, as long as he tells 'em that ho oisted himself, bee here; a grizzly—do ye know what a grizzly is ?—well, a grizzly with his head singed is a safer critter to interview by about a mile than an unbroke broncho at loose ends in a corral. This broncho will be broke to-day or killed. Two boys have tried; one was laid out in ten minutes, with his chest like a apple-pudding 'cos the pony danced on him. The other Stuck to it longer, but were chucked at last, and his skull flattened agin the paling there like a bit of soft lead. Now, ye see the chances. It's a job for an old hand, and even a man who knows may be tripped by Euch a demon. So the boss sent for Joe Starling, to make it sure, slapped down double stakes, fifty dollars, and there the matter lays." I began to feel a little excited. Ezekiel Was in earnest, and his words were • suggestive. And now, to set all doubt at rest, a borseman, whom I recognised as the persou in question, trotted in from the west, and in a very short time appeared with Colonel Jenson, stripped to shirt and trousers, and ready for the fray. I had heard of Joe Starling. He was one Of the wildest characters in the settlement; a dare-devil, reckless customer, the hero and god of lawless men, and the dreadexcept when wanted—of all settlers fond of peace and property. Wo left our places, and I was introduced to the famous Joe, whom I found to be a slender, long-limbed parsonage, with sandy beard and keen eyes, a modest, unassuming manner, and very sparing of speech. I noticed that Jenson, ' the burliest and most jovial of men, treated Joe with a deference which struck me as \ odd until I learnt from actual observation , what kind of business this man had agreed | to undertake. ,

The broncho colt was interested by the proximity of a powerful roan mare held by Joe, and now came close up to the gate and snined at us. Joe observed the animal attentively. "How many hev tried him, Kunnel V " Two—smashed !" "Likely. It is in his eye. Shall we make a start ?" He mounted his mare as he spoke, and nncoiled a raw-hide lariette. Then he looked critically round upon us all. " I want three—Seth Sincup, Bill Corse, and Ezekiel. Put 'em down, boys." The bars of the corral gate were drawn back, and Joe paced in. I had returned to the waggon by this time, with Colonel Jenson, and we had a capital view of the interior of the corral. Joe held his lassoo in both hands, his bridle hanging loosely on the mare's neck. She was perfectly trained, and required neither guidance nor restraint. Slowly she approached the colt, he retreating to the furthest corner of the corral, showing that he well knew the significance of this thin brown rope, and what it could do. The mare drew nearer, step by step, and I fancied that I could see a mocking smile upon her face. Nearer and nearer, until with a snort, and shake of the head, the broncho sprang forward. Joe rose in his Btirrups at the same moment, and swept the noose once round his head. A quick turn of the mare, a cloud of dust and a heavy fall, and then the colt was on the ground, half-choked and helpless. Down went the bars again, and the three chosen men rushed in. Two at once sat down in a firm and unconcerned manner upon the head of the fallen one, while Joe and Ezekiel Yates proceeded to strap upon his back a saddle and bridle, brought in by the latter. This Operation was a delicate one, for the prostrate colt struggled and lashed out desperately. But the men seemed utterly indifferent to the prospect of being kicked into eternity, and accomplished their work in a very few minutes. Joe tightened bis bolt. '* Git, boys." Away they went, scurrying across the corral and through the gate like rabbits to to a hole, the mare having trotted out, be- , fore this of her own accord.

I watched Joe breathlessly. The broncho, free now of lassoo and men, lay still a moment, then raised his head and sneezed. Two seconds passed ; he did not move, but sneezed again. Was he hurt? Nob he. Kow, with a sound like the scream of a maniac, he leaped to hiß feet in one bound and spun round open-mouthed to find the man, and seize him in his teeth. But Joe was not to be caught, and when the dust raised by the colt's quick movement had subsided, we Baw him firmly planted in the saddle, as if he meant to stay. Ezekiel rejoined mo now, and laid a hand upon my shoulder. "Yer have 'em before ye, lad. Two devils. Which is the stickiest ? Ah, ah—h ! bet on the man this time."

I cannot give a just idea in pen "and ink Of the excitement of the scene. The little horse with a wild eye and a big head was now a fiend incarnate. He was not trying to rid himself of his rider, so muclias to destroy him. His eyes glowed like live coals, and at intervals he repeated his shrill scream of rage— challenge to the man. His first movement, when he felt the pressure of Joe's limbs, was to rear erect, and attempt to throw himself backwards. A blow between the ears with the butt end of a quirt (Mexican riding-whip) brought him quickly down again. Then he arched his back like an angry cat, gathered his feet tinder him and," let fly"—as I never saw a horse buck before or since. The strain upon the girths of the. saddle was tremendous, bub they were new and bore it well, while the rider, reiting lightly in bis stirrups, held his balance with beautiful skill and coolness, and throughout every twist and turn and jump of the broncho kept a firm grip upon the bridle, which he wound round the horn of the saddle as sailors secure a rope to a belaying-pin. The bucking continued without respite for several minutes, and ended by the horse rearing a second time, and in this instance overbalancing himself and falling heavily backwards. "Trick number one," muttered Ezekiel, in a grim whisper, while I shuddered and cried out, expecting to see Joe crushed by the fall. He had Blipped aside in time, however, and was on his feet in a moment. The colt was unhurt also, and rolling over the ground set Joe dancing this way and that, to - escape his heels. Another moment passed, and then the broncho was upon his feet again, and for the second time the man just saved bis life by extreme agility. More kicking now ensued, and clouds of dust rose up which made it very difficult to see exactly what was happening. All at once I heard Ezekiel give an exclamation and swear a deep and vigorous oath ; and

presently I saw that one of the girths, the thinner of the two, had split across. The dangling ends at the broncho's sides seemed to infuriate him, and his leaps and kicks sensibly increased. Now came a sharp click on either side, of me, and Colonel Jenson spoke. "Draw, boys, and cover him. Wo must not lose another life. Fire when I give the word, every one." There was a quick movement on .'the stable-roof, and ten revolvers flashed out of their sheaths, and ton fingers were pressed upon the trigger, waiting for the word. lb was a death'Btruggle now. If there were a flaw in the remaining girth, if strap or buckle failed, the saddle would go and Joe bo at the broncho's mercy, unless these pistols did their work in time. But the girth held gallantly, and at last the broncho began to tire and we began to breathe again. .1 could see Joe clearly now. The signs of battle had begun to appeal. Ho was one mass of dirt from top to toe. His right arm had received a deep gash, either , from the colt's teeth or heels, and was smeared with blood from elbow to wrist. His face was pale and worn, his head bent wearily, as if lie were in pain ; bub his eyes were clear and vigilant, and he sab the enemy as firmly as ever. I began to hope that the worst part of the struggle was over, for Joe had gained a tighter hold upon the bridle and the broncho's head was well drawn in, as if he were yielding to control. Ho paced backwards, slowly, un. til ho touched one side of the corral, and there ho stood a moment, pantingas if exhausted. This was magnificent, and I was just about to say so to Ezekicl Yates, when the wretched creature throw up his head with one of his horrid screams, drew himself together, and bounded forward at a tearing gallop. The walls of the corral were six feet high, made of Btrong cedar posts planted side by side in a. deep trench, stout saplings lashed across them with tough rawhide. Was the colt going to leap the corral in a fit of "despair, or would ho dash himself bodily against it! On he went, his speed increasing at every bound, until he reached a point from whence with another leap ho would have impaled himself upon the top of the corral. Here ho stopped dead in his tracks, his feet thrown out in frout of him stiffly, ploughing up the earth ; and his nose almost touching the ground. " Another trick," growled Ezokiol. "It was that way he sent Bob scootin', to dash his brains agin that hard log wall." Joe Starling never moved. He had lost all hold of the pony's head ; but he clung to him with long powerful limbs, and held on like a barnacle. At this piece of horsemanship we all vociferously cheered. The sound seemed to raise the horse afresh. His head sank lower, and he lifted his heels with a sudden extraordinary jerk, which very, very nearly unseated Joe. But for the horn of his saddle he must hare gone. This saved him, and ho slipped back securely into his soab. Now a new phase in the struggle began. All this time Joe had played a passive part; allowing the broncho to take him where he would, and how he would, fooling at the bridle now and then, but without making any determined attempt to check his mad frolics. Ac this point, however, he suddenly seemed to wake into life and action, lie drew in the bridle with a powerful wrench, twisted the broncho's head from the wall of the corral, and then, for the first time, drove in his spurs with a will. The answer was a violent fit of bucking, and 1 expectod every moment to soe the second girth split. It held, however, and the bucking presently subsidod. But there - as to be no rest now. In went the spurs again, and away wont broncho capering, twisting, spinning round this way and that, leaping, kicking, rearing, as actively as ever. The same process was repeated several times, and after each bout Joe's head bent lower over his saddle-bow, and a look of weariness and pallor crept into his face very painful to see. But he never faltered, and at length the time came when the touch of the spur drove the colt round the corral instead of into the air, and we began to feel that an end would come some time. Once Joe even stooped to stroke the foam-flecked neck of the pony caressingly ; and as he did 80, the animal stood still, his ears pricked forward, his eyes free from vicious devilment. Soon after this, when the colt had been guided right round the corral without bucking once, Joe turned to look at us and spoke for the first time. His voice was so weak and faint that it made me start* " He'll do. Drop the bars." There was a runh and scramble of cowboys to the gate, and a clear way was made. The last critical moment was now at hand. Joe guided the broncho gently towards the gate. At first the animal swerved from it perversely, but once through a new life seemed to rush into his limbs, and he began to prance and chafe at the bib. Once again Joe drew himself together, a spasm of pain passing over his face, as ho straightened his back; then he loosened the bridle, and lightly flicked the broncho on the flank. The pony shook himself and bounded forward ; he did not try to lower his head and buck. Another touch of the quirt and a word of encouragement. He reared, gave one last caper, and then swept into a long stretching gallop. The cowboys gave a loud cheer ; Joe waved his hand as he sped away; and in a few minutes horse and rider had disappeared behind a roll of prairie. Colonel Jenson heaved a huge sigh of relief. " Off now for twenty miles; and the job well done. By thunder ! that cues is sandy to the backbone. What say to it, friend ?" —turning to me. "Two hours ago I'd ha' took ton dollars for that pony, and given boot. Now, he's worth a hundred. Come in, the whole crowd of ye; we'll have drinks round for this." We spent a merry time for a couple of hours and then sallied out in a body to meet the hero on his return. We had not to go fur. Joe had run the broncho until his pace was spent and was now retracing bis stops at a walk. He said he was nob hurt, but when questioned owned that every joint and muscle of his back and limbs seemed to have been twisted out of shape. Ezekiel described the sensation to me afterwards. "It ie," he said, "as if all yer nerves had been laid out one by one upon a wire and grilled. A queer feelin'!" As for tho broncho, when Joe had ridden to the rancho, and had been lifted off and carried in to bed, for he could not walk, I was ordered to mount—being the worst horseman present —and ride to the stable. This I did with fearful inward qualm?, and no London cab-horso could have been quieter than our demon of the afternoon. It must not be supposed, however, that with this the breaking was completed. The broncho was ridden daily for many weeks by an experienced rough-rider, and more than once the old spirit of devilmenb flashed out and endangered his rider's life. But Joe Starling earned his fifty dollars well. Before six months had gone that broncho was the best saddle-pony in Jack Jenson's stable.