nada, for the village you come
out to see turns out, like Saskatoon, to be a bustling city full of
"pep," as they say, and possessing 20,000 inhabitants.

The guide-book makers are not to blame. Somewhere about 1903 there
were no more than 150 people within its boundaries. Now, from the look
of it, it could provide ten motor-cars for each of these oldest
inhabitants, and have about 500 over for new-comers--in fact, that is
about the figure; there are 2,000 cars on the Saskatoon registers.
Saskatoon was full of cars neatly lined up along the Prince's route
during every period of his stay.

The great function of the visit was the "Stampede." This sports
meeting took place on a big racing ground before a grand-stand that
held many thousand more people than Saskatoon boasted. The many cars
that brought them in from all over the country were parked in huge
wedges in and about the ground.

Passing off the wild dirt roads, the Prince headed a procession of cars
round the course before entering a special pavilion erected facing the
grandstand. His coming was the signal for the Stampede to commence.
It was a new thrill to Britishers, an affair of excitement, and a real
breath of Western life. They told us that the cattle kings are moving
away from this area to the more spacious and lonely lands of the North;
but the exhibition the Prince witnessed showed that the daring and
skilful spirit of the cowboys has not moved on yet.

We were also told that this Stampede was something in the nature of a
circus that toured the country, and that men and animals played their
parts mechanically as oft-tried turns in a show. But even if that was
so, the thing was unique to British eyes, and the exhibition of all the
tricks of the cattleman's calling was for those who looked on a new
sensation.

Cattlemen rode before the Prince on bucking horses that, loosed from
wooden cages, came along the track like things compact of India-rubber
and violence, as they strove to throw the leechlike men in furry,
riding chaps, loose shirts, sweat-rags and high felt hats, who rode
them.

Some of the men rode what seemed a more difficult proposition--an angry
bull, that bunched itself up and down and lowed vindictively, as it
tried to buck its rider off.

From the end of the race-track a steer was loosed, and a cowboy on a
small lithe broncho rode after it at top speed. Round the head of this
man the lariat whirled like a live snake. In a flas