of the Texas saddles, and proudly
escaping the humiliation which alights on the head of one who in the
cow-camps cannot saddle his own "bronc." Being ready, we mounted, and
followed a cowboy off down the road to the _rodeo-ground._ The manager
and Madam Mamma rode in a buckboard, proudly following with their gaze
the galloping ponies which bore their jewels. I thought they should be
fearful for their safety, but after more intimate inspection, I could
see how groundless was such solicitude.

I must have it understood that these little vaquero girls were not the
ordinary Texas product, fed on corn-meal and bred in the chaparral, but
the much looked after darlings of a fond mother. They are taken South
every winter, that their bodies may be made lithe and healthy, but at
the same time two or more governesses crowd their minds with French,
German, and other things with which proper young girls should be
acquainted. But their infant minds did not carry back to the days when
they had not felt a horse under them. To be sure, in the beginning it
was only a humble donkey, but even before they knew they had graduated
to ponies, and while yet ten years old, it was only by a constant watch
that they were kept off unbroken broncos--horses that made the toughest
vaqueros throw down their hats, tighten their belts, and grin with fear.

From over the hills came the half-wild cattle, stringing along at a
trot, all bearing for the open space in the waste of the chaparral where
the _rodeo_ occurred, while behind them followed the cowboys--gay desert
figures with brown, pinched faces, long hair, and shouting wild cries.
The exhilaration of the fine morning, the tramp of the thousands, got
into the curls of the three little Misses Golden-hairs, and they
scurried away, while I followed to feast on this fresh vision, where
absolutely ideal little maids shouted Spanish at murderous-looking
Mexican cow-punchers done up in bright scrapes and costumed out of all
reason. As the vaqueros dashed about hither and thither to keep their
herds moving in the appointed direction, the infants screamed in their
childish treble and spurred madly too. A bull stands at bay, but a child
dashes at him, while he turns and flees. It is not their first _rodeo,_
one can see, but I should wish they were with mamma and the buckboard,
instead of out here in the brush, charging wild bulls, though in truth
this never were written. These bulls frequently charge men, and