My First Broncho Ride

My First Broncho Ride BY CHARLES HERMAN N0RBERG. The horse : what a wonderful creature is the horse. As a boy, my opinion of these animals was very high. That was before I ever owned one, and while I was still wishing and wishing that someone with a kind heart would see fit to bestow this gift to me. To me the horse embodied the mighty strength of the giant, and the swiftness of the eagle ; to draw great loads which big men could not move ; to fly up hill and down carrying the weight of a grown man ! I think there is something marvelous about this deserving animal. Dutch and Jim had taught me to feel this way. Dutch was a large, fat, sorrel horse, with the disposition of a kindly man, and he had enormous strength. Jim was a steed of almost perfect stature. A shiny coat of rich brown covered him as a silken mantle. His was the swiftness of the eagle. The way he held his head, the flash from his beautiful eyes, reminded one of great pride and of the most vivid lightning. He was so filled with action that to sit upon his back and skim across the country was like a powerful tonic. Another great thing about Jim was his splendid disposition, in spite of his fiery nature. Three of us rode Dutch many a time. His back was round and soft, like a saddle. It was almost impossible to make him trot. There was no fire in Dutch. Just a faithful, plodding gait that "got there" sooner or later. If we fell off, he was glad. The longer we were in remounting the better he liked it — the more grass he could eat. Absolutely lazy, but always to be depended upon in a pinch: this was Dutch. In my fancy now, I see the face of a generous, good looking uncle, mingled with the memory of a beautiful, yearling colt ; and so long as I live, I shall never forget the day he came to me and gave me this wonderful horse. The animal excited so much appreciation and delight within me, that I shall always consider this man a prince. You may believe me when I say that this horse was no "cayuse." She was an animal any boy might be proud of. She had a shapely head, carried high. Her body was supported by four of the trimmest legs I had ever seen. The few days following my receipt of this gift were taken up in efforts to break her to the halter. Very few young horses take kindly to the rope, and none of them will lead well at first. We were sometime getting the halter on her. She had a way of

MY FIRST BRONCHO RIDE 767 shifting her head quickly, just as we were about to fasten the buckle. When we tried to lead her she began to show her spunk. We tied her to a post and when she found herself detained, her very humanlike temper arose. She did not hesitate. She broke the rope. It is in the nature of things that man must win sooner or later. Even a wild horse must come to learn that man is his master. When the colt learned this, she became the most obedient of creatures, and followed us around like a lamb. Then I mounted her. She seemed as gentle as old Dutch. After a moment or two, I concluded that there was no danger. She took to carrying me on her back as naturally as a fish swims. The generous gift of my uncle was becoming a reality, and my own importance was growing every minute. I was actually making use of my own property. Up to this time the ownership had seemed more of a dream than a reality. Now, I was in absolute possession of a beautiful horse. There was no possible chance of my dream fading away now. What an easy matter it was anyway to break a colt. Whoever should write my biography would have this wonderful feat to tell, "At eight, he rode his first broncho." I expected to become Buffalo Bill, the second ! As we walked through the meadow, I had a feeling that brother and sister, walking along with the procession, were mere babies. In comparison with my suddenly acquired size, they were not even reckoned. "You'd better hang on to her mane," said my little, fat sister, clapping her hands excitedly. In answer I gave her a glance of scorn and raised both hands to adjust my hat. A little movement which had a lot of meaning; and the next movement also had a strong definition. Fifteen minutes later I began to realize it. I have never had the pleasure of learning a lesson so thoroughly in so short a time before or since. Two or three days later we christened the colt Bronc, which is still her name, no doubt, and I decided to give some other lover of Buffalo Bill the honor of breaking her to ride peaceably. Admiral Dewey is a little past seventy-five, but looks much younger. To a friend who asked him the secret of his youthfulness, the admiral replied, "If you keep your face to the sunshine, the shadows will always fall behind you." "A very pretty sentiment," says the Youth's Companion, "for an old gentleman whose business has not been that of coining phrases."