evelt was going to be hurt. There was no disgrace in being thrown.
It was done in the same way that Devil had unhorsed other men whom
Roosevelt would have been first to call better riders than himself.
There was a sudden arching of the back which jolted the rider at least
six inches from the saddle, then a whirling jump which completed a
half-turn, and a landing, stiff-legged, on the fore feet while the
hind hoofs kicked high in the air. In his six-inch descent the rider
was met with the saddle or the flanks of the horse and catapulted into
space. The only way to 'stay with the leather' was to get the horse to
running instead of making this first jump.

"About every other jump we could see twelve acres of bottom-land
between Roosevelt and the saddle, but now the rider stayed with the
animal a little longer than before. Four times that beast threw him,
but the fifth time Roosevelt maneuvered him into a stretch of
quicksand in the Little Missouri River. This piece of strategy saved
the day, made Roosevelt a winner, and broke the record of the Devil,
for if there is any basis of operations fatal to fancy bucking it is
quicksand. After a while Roosevelt turned the bronco around, brought
him out on dry land, and rode him until he was as meek as a rabbit."

The round-up that spring gave Roosevelt an opportunity to put his
horsemanship to the severest test there was.

Theodore Roosevelt is now at Medora [the Mandan _Pioneer_
reported on May 22d], and has been there for some time past.
He is preparing his outfit for the round-up, and will take
an active part in the business itself.

Roosevelt had, in fact, determined to work with the round-up as an
ordinary cowpuncher, and shortly after the middle of May he started
with his "outfit" south to the appointed meeting-place west of the
mouth of Box Elder Creek in southeastern Montana. With him were all
the regular cowboys of the Maltese Cross, besides a half-dozen other
"riders," and Walter Watterson, a sandy-haired and faithful being who
drove Tony and Dandy, the wheel team, and Thunder and Lightning, the
leaders, hitched to the rumbling "chuck-wagon." Watterson was also the
cook, and in both capacities was unexcelled. Each cowpuncher attached
to the "outfit," or to "the wagon" as it was called on the round-up,
had his own "string" of ten or a dozen ponies, thrown together into a
single herd which was in charge of the "horse-wranglers," one for the
night and