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Updated: May 29, 2025
The pistol was not jerked from his hand this time, but before he could snap it Ohnimus had thrown a coil around his neck and pulled his pistol hand up over his shoulder. In another instant a second coil was around the reporter's body, and both arms were fastened firmly to his sides. He could not move that pistol an inch.
The reporter took his station twenty feet behind Mr. Ohnimus, quite out of sight, of course. He swung the loop around his head, and, without turning, let it fly backward. It circled the newspaper man exactly, and by pulling it quickly Ohnimus had his arms pinioned to his side. "Are there any more trick throws?" asked the reporter. "Lots of them.
An Examiner reporter called on Louis Ohnimus, Superintendent of Woodward's Gardens, who wielded a riata for many years, and probably knows as much about throwing the lasso as any man on the coast, and asked him if the feats referred to were possible. "The Mexican may have won the duel by lassoing his adversary, riata and all," was the answer.
Put it in your pocket and draw it on me as I come toward you." The reporter did as he was directed. He had not raised the weapon when the noose was around his hand and the pistol was jerked a dozen feet. "Try again, and tighter," said Ohnimus. The reporter did so.
"No," answered Mr. Ohnimus, "the vaquero never carries his noose long. If he did, it would be constantly getting tangled up in the horse's legs. He makes it larger when he swings it. But to get back to the process of lassoing. As our cowboy gets close to his quarry, he takes the noose in his lasso hand. I will use my left, as it is a trifle handier for me.
Then an ordinary riata is only fourteen or sixteen yards long twenty yards is a very long one. So, you see, a forty-foot throw is a pretty good one." He was asked to explain how to throw a lasso, and consented to do so. "The first thing about this business," said Mr. Ohnimus, "is to have a perfect riata.
That was the critical point, and had he not been treated tactfully by Louis Ohnimus, doubtless the big Grizzly would have died of nervous collapse. A live fowl was put before him after he had refused food and disdained to notice efforts to attract his attention, and the old instinct to kill was aroused in him. His dulled eyes gleamed green, a swift clutching stroke of the paw secured the fowl.
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