Instantly Kit Carson and Reuben, together with the men who were still
on the open plain, dashed toward the entrance. Reuben was able to see
the tired horse when he dashed through the little valley and fled to
the exit on the opposite side.
In a moment, however, the two men who were waiting there, shouting in
their loudest tones and vigorously beating upon their tins, advanced
upon the startled animal, which immediately turned back in his tracks
and again started toward the opening by which he had entered. Again the
terrified beast turned back when he found the passageway blocked by
several of his pursuers.
The noble animal stopped and gazed partly in fear and partly in anger
at the men, and then with repeated snorts of defiance began to circle
the little enclosure. Several times he stopped, and to Reuben it seemed
as if he had decided to turn and attempt to fight his way through.
Kit Carson and his friends, however, gave the pony no rest. Whenever he
stopped some of the men bore down upon him with shouts mingled with an
occasional discharge of a gun and loud beatings upon the tins. In this
manner they compelled the horse to keep running and prevented him from
obtaining any rest.
Around and around the enclosure the poor beast ran until it seemed to
Reuben as if the weary animal must drop from sheer exhaustion. Not once
was he permitted to stop for rest. The men were shouting, discharging
their rifles, beating upon their tins, and continually doing their
utmost to prevent the leader of the drove from passing them or pausing
in his flight.
To Reuben the pitiful aspect of the noble animal soon became doubly
strong. The expression in his eyes as well as his manner showed that he
was nearly exhausted. His breathing was very laboured and his heaving
flanks showed how difficult his flight had become.
For an hour the maddening chase continued. By that time the black horse
had stumbled and almost fallen several times. Indeed, it seemed to
Reuben as if the poor beast each time would be unable to regain his
footing and continue his mad flight. Once more there welled up in
Reuben’s heart a feeling of pity for the animal which had made such a
desperate struggle for freedom.
In the midst of all these things, however, Kit Carson was unmoved. The
expression on his face did not change. He simply was determined to
carry through to its completion the plan which he had formed for the
capture of the leader of the ponies that had so strongly appealed to
his admiration.
Suddenly the scout wheeled and shouted: “Now is the time! Look out for
the openings! All I want is for you to keep him from breaking through.”
At that moment Carson started swiftly forward on the animal he was
riding. Trembling, weak, and streaked with froth and sweat, the black
horse stared at the unexpected advance for a moment, and then with a
desperate effort tried to renew his flight.
There was no display of anger now. The fierceness of the black beast
was gone. His head was drooping and his weakness was apparent in every
forward step that he took. No longer was there the flash of fire to be
seen in his eyes. There was in them now an expression of agony mingled
with fear.
Kit Carson, however, advancing slowly until he was within ten yards of
the animal he was determined to secure, swung his lasso several times
above his head and then cast it toward the black horse.
Silence had followed the action of the scout, and almost breathless in
their excitement every one watched the curling, twisting leather strip
as it slowly made its way toward its mark. A sigh of relief escaped
Reuben’s lips when the noose, almost as if it were conscious of what it
was doing, dropped over the head of the black horse and settled about
his neck.
The pony which Kit Carson was riding was familiar with his task. It was
not the first time the scout had captured wild horses, although never
before had he attempted to take one so beautiful and fleet and strong.
The pony braced its feet and stood back in its tracks to throw its
strength against the pull that would be made upon it.
The black horse, now conscious of the tightening noose, leaped forward
in one final despairing effort to escape from his pursuers. How vain it
all was. As the powerful animal dashed ahead, the noose tightened, the
line became taut, and he was thrown, almost turning a somersault as he
came to the ground.
Quickly the scout rushed forward, and a moment later, before the
captive was able to rise, his forefeet were hobbled, and the beautiful
wild pony, which only recently had been the proud leader of a drove,
was helpless in the hands of his captors.
For a moment sounds of mingled rage and terror were emitted by the
trembling animal as he lay helpless upon the ground. His eyes, however,
had now taken on an expression of intense hatred, and suddenly by a
supreme effort he arose to his feet and remained standing. His ears
were flattened against his head, and for a moment even Kit Carson
hesitated before he approached the angry and trembling beast.
Turning to his companions the scout said quietly: “I want every one of
you now to go back to camp.”
“But we don’t want to leave you here with that black demon,” suggested
Jack.
“I’m going to stay here alone,” said Kit Carson quietly. “You need not
have any fears that I shall be hurt, and it will not be long before I
shall come to the camp myself.”
Reuben glanced appealingly at the scout, seeking permission to remain
without voicing his wish. Kit Carson, however, smiled and shook his
head. Reuben was to go back with the other trappers. Reluctantly the
half-dozen men rode slowly out of the opening in the enclosure and
started toward the camp.
“I don’t like to leave him there,” said Jack, slowly shaking his head
as he spoke. “That horse is as dangerous as a grizzly and twice as
powerful.”
“That may be so,” admitted one of the men, “but I don’t care how strong
it is Kit Carson has a way of taking all that out of it.”
“I knew a man once who had his head bitten off by a horse,” suggested
one of the trappers.
“I reckon his head must have been about the size of a walnut,” laughed
the trapper.
“Never you mind,” said the first speaker; “a horse has a powerful big
mouth and its teeth are strong. Did you ever see two horses fight?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there’s no sight like it in the world. They make you think of
two demons. A good many times they’ll fight until one or the other is
killed, and sometimes neither one comes out of the fight alive.”
“Well, I would rather have them fight one another than to fight me,”
said the first trapper. “I don’t envy Kit his job back yonder.”
Reuben had been silent throughout the conversation, and his fears for
his friend were greatly increased in consequence of it. He was becoming
alarmed for the safety of the lithe little scout, but there was nothing
to be done except to carry out his desires, and in silence he proceeded
on his way to the camp.
When the men arrived they found their companions eager listeners to the
story they had to tell of the capture of the black horse. Others of the
men also were concerned now for the safety of the scout, but against
the suggestion that they should go to his relief the strong protests
made by the men who had accompanied Carson in the chase at last
prevailed, and no one departed from the camp.
Meanwhile, although it was seldom that reference was made to the fear
in the heart of every one, the anxiety among the trappers increased as
the slow moments passed. When an hour had elapsed the suggestion was
renewed by Reuben that the men should go to the aid of their leader.
But the suggestion was again refused. Another hour passed, and still
there were no signs of the coming of the missing trapper.
A half-hour later, however, Kit Carson was seen approaching the camp,
riding his own pony and leading his captive. The black horse was
following meekly, his dejected bearing clearly showing the sufferings
he had undergone. The scout made no comment when he rode into the camp.
He at once quietly dismounted and threw the bridle rein over the head
of the pony he had been riding and then turned to his captive.
At first it seemed as if the spirit of the black horse was broken. In a
moment, however, when Kit Carson tried to lead forward the nearly
exhausted animal, the wild pony reared and with a scream of anger
attempted to strike the scout with his forefeet. Carson, however, was
too quick, and the attempt of his prisoner to injure him proved futile.
Again the scout pulled upon the halter, although as Reuben watched him
he was puzzled to understand how the daring man had succeeded in
placing a halter on the head of the powerful animal. The pony this time
responded, and although he was apparently unaware of what he was doing,
he followed his captor as he led him to a stake which had been securely
driven into the ground on the border of the camp. There the captured
horse was tied. Once more, however, Kit Carson barely escaped the
onrush of the beast as he dashed upon him with wide-open jaws. It was
impossible for any one in the camp now to hobble the animal, and for a
time he was left to his vain efforts to escape. Desperately the poor
beast pulled upon the thongs that held him, but without avail. After a
struggle of a few minutes the attempt was abandoned, and for a time it
seemed as if the black horse, his spirits drooping and his whole
bearing dejected, had at last decided to yield to his fate.
Kit Carson declared that the horse should not be fed or watered
throughout the night. When morning came, with some oats in his hat
which he was holding in his outstretched hand, the scout again
approached the captive. Hunger and thirst by this time had deprived the
beast of still more of his fiery energy. He was weak now as well as
suffering. Stretching forth his head, he ate a few oats, and then,
apparently overcome by his recollection of his humiliation, with a
scream of anger he arose upon his hind feet and again endeavoured to
crush the scout.