University School for Girls - Castanon Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

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.f- ,.,.-,,-. His father owned a small cattle ranch and early one spring Tud was to break his first pony. The pony was a small pinto which he had named Mud. He donned his chaps that morning as he had seen others do and started to saddle Mud. It was difiicult work and took some good patience,but it is a virtue that all Westerners learn early if they are to have comradeship with animals. Bit by bit Tud gained on the pony and with a quick swing up went the saddle. It was only a matter of a few seconds when Tud pulled up his chaps, stroked Mud's nose, grabbed the reins and was mounted. Well-that little pony bucked, reared, sun-fished to the best of his ability and Tud stuck with him. His father who had watched the exhibition smiled to himself. All his other sons had broken horses but none had done it as well as Tud. He would make a rodeo winner out of him. Tud went to Wyoming University at Laramie for one year. During his sopho- more year he received news that his father was dying. The snow was heavy and the trains slow, by the time he reached home his father was dead. The oldest son Ken had taken over the ranch and was running it with his own. Tud felt that he couldn't afford to return to college so he began to work for Ken. They didn't agree on some planting that had to be done so Tud packed up and pulled out . He went to Sheridan, Wyoming and there found work in a garage. The next spring Frank O. Horton, owner of a dude ranch, asked Tud if he would like to be a horse wrangler on the H-Bar Ranch. Skipper, as F. O. H. was called, said the work would not altogether be with the dudes but real range riding would be part of it. Tud agreed to come May first as the out-of-door-life instead of the oily garage sounded good to him. At the appointed time Tud arrived at the ranch and there began a month of round-ups, carpentering, painting, branding, all of which had to be accomplished before the dudes arrived. Tud enjoyed those weeks of real work. He enjoyed the companionship of those men and their stories of the dumb dudes. He waited almost impatiently for the first dudes. They came. The dudes with Eastern clothes, accents and pale faces. Hany, the head wrangler, gave them horses and saddles and they set out on their first ride in the Wild and woolly west. Miss Baher, a spinster, came in every morn- ing for five days complaining about her horse. Hany smiled and each morning gave her a horse of a different name. The sixth day she came in beaming and overjoyed. She had finally found a horse that suited her. She thanked Hany and crossed his palm with silver. Ignorance is bliss -for it was later rumored about the corral that it was the same horse, Dinty Moore, all the while. The wool is pulled over a poor dude's eyesi' many times. The next winter Tud was sent to Chicago with a load of cattle for the stock yards. Arriving at the Union Station he glanced around and decided to walk to his hotel. Tud had read much of Chicago gangsters but he doubted their reality. Walking along in his usual free and easy fashion he crossed an alley. Three masked men held him up and two hundred dollars were removed from him before he could utter a sound. After selling the cattle he quickly returned to the West where men are men! He hadn't tried any bucking for some years but at the Johnson County Fair at Buffalo the next summer, he decided to enter the bucking contest. Tud had drawn Funeral Wagon, a big gray horse with a nasty reputation. He rode the first day and, as he approached the chute, the H-Bar section cheered loudly. He rode Funeral Wagon to a glorious finish, scratching him all the time. He won the first money and also third money in the calf roping contest. Tud returned to the ranch a feted hero, which he still is today. He is still riding the ranges of the H-Bar and will probably do so for many years to come. What makes him seem so fine? Why have I written of him? BARBARA GRAF, '30 71

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If -il . WHERE DREAMS WILL COME TRUE You are the pilot- Your plane is your own, If you can guide it And dare to alone. Once land is below, You soar into air. Through storms you must go- All Life is not fair. But where storm clouds lurk, Behind, sun is too- Beyond the horizon Your dreams will come true. So give me my plane- I long to fly high! Hope-my propeller'- Sends me off to the sky. My compass is Truth, By my Dreams I'll steerg Storms are just Living- Of Life I've no fear. For I know brightest sun Darkest clouds can break through. Beyond the horizon My Dreams will come true. Donornv BRAUN, '30 .,..i ' KlTUD77 He never did anything famous unless you consider roping and throwing a calf in twelve seconds a famous accomplishment. He never was well known except in Johnson County, Wyoming and yet, to me he was wonderfull When I knew him I knew nothing of his life and even now that I have heard it, I doubt that it is any different from that of all western boys. For he was just a cowboy named Tud Smith. He was born in Story, Wyoming in IQO2. He was the sixth of fourteen children. Little has been known about his childhood. I suppose it was school and helping father as all ranch children did. It might have seemed a drab existence to us who live in the city of bright lights. 70

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,,r.,..- A PROMISE KEPT It was in a land called Larcretes that a dark-haired, green-eyed maiden loved a fair, brave man. But the maiden, whose name was known as Melusine, was a princess while her lover was a soldier and with a somewhat shady past. He was called Callistion, and by some, The Clever One. Numberless were the ladies who had held an unrequited love for this gallant Callistion, and it was told that some had died for it. But now that Callistion loved, and, as it seemed, so hope- lessly, it was with his whole soul, and Melusine responded. They were walking in the Court of the Sun, a garden in Melusine's quarters, and Callistion played nervously with the glossy ends of Melusine's long hair and he was saying, It seems a crime like those for which men burn in hell to take a love like yours, which I do not deserve, oh Melusine. It is like some vile beggar who, perchance on a hillside, passes a frail flower, and knowing that against his filthy bosom it will die, is too weak to resist, picks it, and goes on. But Melusine only smiled and very quietly replied, It is good that men are weak. Callistion caught her white hand to his lips. Some day, perhaps-but these are idle dreams. Oh, Melusine, if I but knew that you loved me as I love you- it seems impossible! Melusine only listened with untroubled eyes which seemed to plumb his heart and to appraise all Callistion had ever thought or longed for since the day that he was born, and she was as beautiful, it seemed to him, as the untroubled, gracious angels are, and more compassionate. On the next day came news of a new war with the mighty king of a neighbor- ing country, and it was necessary that Callistion depart. They walked again in the Court of the Sun and Melusine was calm. She took a ring of emeralds from her hand and placed it on a golden cord about his neck, because his fingers were too large. While life endures I pledge you faith, and service, Callistion. Now you go, but first I wed you, here in the sight of God, and I bid you return to me, who am your wife and servitor forever, now. I will return, he said. Then in a little while she withdrew her lips from his and he went. For a year the war was waged tirelessly and finally ended, but Callistion did not return. And day after day Melusine walked up and down in the Court of the Sun with unwavering hopes for him. A day came when a young stranger sought audience with Melusine. The princess sat in a high chair capped with a large lion's head in mahogany. It gleamed above her head, but was less glorious than her own hair. The young stranger recounted to her how he had been in Callistion's army and how they had been captured and made slaves together. Afterwards he told of how he had escaped with promises to Callistion to give news of him to Melusine. And now, tho' I am safe, he is still a fettered slave at the Court of Gaignars and I have never seen a braver man, oh Princess! Do not weepf, I lack the time, said Melusine. And when the stranger had gone she went into her chamber and gathered such jewels as would ransom a pope. She plaited her marvelous hair and put on a garment of wine velvet stitched in gold, and, under cover of the ensuing night, slipped from the castle. She took her cream white horse and galloped toward the dawn. For days she rode, sleeping in a forest or at some strange inn. She found no time in which to be afraid or to grieve the estate she was relinquishing so long as Callistion lay in danger. 72