It is notable for many other things besides its annual round-up. But it
remains dear to me for one particular reason.
My hat was done. It had no longer the spring and elasticity of youth. It
was scarred with many rains and many fish-hooks. It had ceased to add
its necessary jaunty touch to my costume. It detracted. In its age, I
loved it, but the Family insisted cruelly on a change. So, sitting on
Angel, a new one was brought me, a chirky young thing, a cowgirl affair
of high felt crown and broad rim.
And, at this moment, a gentleman I had never seen before, but who is
green in my memory, stepped forward and presented me with his own
hat-band. It was of leather, and it bore this vigorous and inspiriting
inscription: "Give 'er pep and let 'er buck."
To-day, when I am low in my mind, I take that cowgirl hat from its
retreat and read its inscription: "Give 'er pep and let 'er buck." It is
a whole creed.
Somewhere among my papers I have the programme of that round-up at
Kalispell. It was a very fine round-up. There was a herd of buffalo;
there were wild horses and long-horned Mexican steers.
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