ction of the field to another. "Red"
Earnest, from Waugh's ranch on the Frio, was the first entry in the
relay race. He had a good mount of eight Spanish horses which he rode
bareback, making many of his changes in less than fifteen seconds
apiece, and finishing full three minutes under the time limit. The feat
was cheered to the echo, I joining with the rest, and numerous friendly
bets were made that the time would not be lowered that day. Two other
riders rode before the noon recess, only one of whom came under the time
limit, and his time was a minute over Earnest's record.

Miss Jean had camped the ambulance in sight of the field, and kept open
house to all comers. Suspecting that she would have Mrs. Hunter and
Esther for lunch, if they were present, I avoided our party and took
dinner with Mrs. Booth. Meanwhile Uncle Lance detailed Deweese and
Happersett to handle my horses, allowing us five vaqueros, and
distributing the other men as assistants to our other three contestants.
The day was an ideal one for the contests, rather warm during the
morning, but tempered later by a fine afternoon breeze. It was after
four o'clock when I was called, with Waugh's man still in the lead.
Forming a small circle at the starting-point, each of our vaqueros led
a pair of horses, in bridles only, around a ring,--constantly having in
hand eight of my mount of ten. As handlers, I had two good men in our
_segundo_ and Dan Happersett. I crossed the line amid the usual shouting
with a running start, determined, if possible, to lower the record of
Red Earnest. In making the changes, all I asked was a good grip on the
mane, and I found my seat as the horse shot away. The horses had broken
into an easy sweat before the race began, and having stripped to the
lowest possible ounce of clothing, I felt that I was getting out of them
every fraction of speed they possessed. The ninth horse in my mount, a
roan, for some unknown reason sulked at starting, then bolted out on the
prairie, but got away with the loss of only about ten seconds, running
the half mile like a scared wolf. Until it came the roan's turn to go
again, no untoward incident happened, friendly timekeepers posting me
at every change of mounts. But when this bolter's turn came again, he
reared and plunged away stiff-legged, crossed the inward furrow, and
before I could turn him again to the track, cut inside the course for
two stakes or possibly fifty yards. By this time I was beyo