d-up had started; there was no time to waste. Sylvane gave
Roosevelt his horse, Baldy, which sometimes bucked, but never went
over backwards, and himself mounted the now re-arisen "Ben Butler." To
Roosevelt's discomfiture, the horse that had given him so much trouble
started off as meekly as any farm-horse.

"Why," remarked Sylvane, not without a touch of triumph, "there's
nothing the matter with this horse. He's a plumb gentle horse."

But shortly after, Roosevelt noticed that Sylvane had fallen behind.
Then he heard his voice, in persuasive tones, "That's all right! Come
along!" Suddenly a new note came into his entreaties. "Here you! Go on
you! Hi, hi, fellows, help me out! He's laying on me!"

They dragged Sylvane from under the sprawling steed, whereupon
Sylvane promptly danced a war-dance, spurs and all, on the iniquitous
"Ben." Roosevelt gave up the attempt to take that particular bronco on
the round-up that day.

"By gollies," remarked "Dutch Wannigan" in later days, "he rode some
bad horses, some that did quite a little bucking around for us. I
don't know if he got throwed. If he did, there wouldn't have been
nothin' said about it. Some of those Eastern punkin-lilies now, those
goody-goody fellows, if they'd ever get throwed off you'd never hear
the last of it. He didn't care a bit. By gollies, if he got throwed
off, he'd get right on again. He was a dandy fellow."

The encounter with "Ben Butler" brought a new element into Roosevelt's
cowpunching experience, and made what remained of the round-up
somewhat of an ordeal. For he discovered that the point of his
shoulder was broken. Under other circumstances he would have gone to a
doctor, but in the Bad Lands you did not go to doctors, for the simple
reason that there was only one physician in the whole region and he
might at any given moment be anywhere from fifty to two hundred and
fifty miles away. If you were totally incapacitated with a broken leg
or a bullet in your lungs, you sent word to Dr. Stickney's office in
Dickinson. The doctor might be north in the Killdeer Mountains or
south in the Cave Hills or west in Mingusville, for the territory he
covered stretched from Mandan a hundred and twenty miles east of
Medora, to Glendive, the same distance westward, south to the Black
Hills and north beyond the Canadian border, a stretch of country not
quite as large as New England, but almost. The doctor covered it on
horseback or in a buckboard; in the cab o