Natiff Sons--the real ones, like him--are as scarce outside Calyforny as buffalo are right here in this coulee." "That's the way they do it, all right," Irish agreed.

"And then they'll have a 'rodeo'-- " "Haw-haw-haw!" Big Medicine interrupted, and took up the tale, which might have been entitled "Some Cowpunching I Have Seen." "They have them rodeos on a Sunday, mostly, and they invite everybody to it, like it was a picnic.

And there'll be two or three fellers to every calf, all lit up, like Mig-u-ell, over there, in chaps and silver fixin's, fussin' around on horseback in a corral, and every feller trying to pile his rope on the same calf, by cripes! They stretch 'em out with two ropes--calves, remember! Little, weenty fellers you could pack under one arm! Yuh can't blame 'em much.

They never have more'n thirty or forty head to brand at a time, and they never git more'n a taste uh real work.

So they make the most uh what they git, and go in heavy on fancy outfits.