e spinning
and of trick riding as we had never before seen. Doubtless it is an old
story for Californians, but it was all new and interesting to us. The
most interesting feat was the roping and throwing of a steer. Two men
ride down the steer, and as one of them approaches the beast he slips
off his horse and catches the steer with a lightning stroke around his
neck. He endeavors by casting his weight on the beast's neck and by
dexterously twisting it to throw the animal. Usually he succeeds; but
sometimes a stubborn beast refuses to be taken by surprise, plants his
feet firmly, and lowers his dangerous horns. Then follows a locked
struggle, and it is a serious matter for the cattleman if his hold
slips.

[Illustration: 1. and 2. Cowboy Rodeo, Stockton, Cal. 3. Hereford Bull,
Wyoming. 4. Cowboy Rodeo, Laramie, Wyoming.]

CHAPTER VII

When we left Stockton we felt that the great adventure had really begun.
We were now to traverse the Lincoln Highway and were to be guided by the
red, white, and blue marks; sometimes painted on telephone poles,
sometimes put up by way of advertisement over garage doors or swinging
on hotel signboards; sometimes painted on little stakes, like croquet
goals, scattered along over the great spaces of the desert. We learned
to love the red, white, and blue, and the familiar big L which told us
that we were on the right road. Had we taken the Lincoln Highway
literally from ocean to ocean, we should have driven direct from San
Francisco to Stockton. As it was we saw California first, and came in at
Stockton.

It was a bright, sunny day, the thirteenth of June, when we left
Stockton for Sacramento. We drove along an excellent asphalt road,
through grain fields and orchards, the almond orchards being loaded with
their green, velvety fruit. It was late afternoon when we reached our
hostel, the Sacramento Hotel. Sacramento is even to-day more or less a
frontier town. Judging by appearances, there are more saloons in
proportion to the other shops of Sacramento than in any other town in
California, unless it be San Francisco. The town is well shaded. One
sees many wooden buildings of old-fashioned architecture, the old
mansard roof being much in evidence. A most pleasant spot in Sacramento
is the beautifully kept park around the fine State House. Its walks are
shaded by a fine row of palms, another of magnolias which were in full
bloom, and yet another of beautiful old cedars. I liked the