The next morning when Star, with his mother and the Old White Horse, had
found a nice place to graze near the other ponies, the Big Gray Horse
that Star had noticed the previous night joined them, and the Old White
Horse hastened to rub noses with him.
Star watched curiously, then edged cautiously toward them. His nose
twitched, for Star was not quite sure whether he had better bite the Big
Gray Horse or not. The stranger was so big and was certainly very
handsome. He had a beautiful long silver tail and a heavy silver mane.
His ears were very small and tapered to delicate points, his forehead
was broad, and his eyes unusually large and bright. His neck arched
proudly and when he moved every muscle beneath his glistening dappled
skin told how powerful he was. Star reached him, and as they faced each
other, the Big Gray Horse lifted a front hoof and pawed the ground
lightly.
The Old White Horse watched him respectfully, and Running Deer joined
the group, so that the four of them stood with their noses almost
touching.
"Who are you?" asked Running Deer, when the Big Gray Horse showed
plainly that he wanted to be friends.
"I am the horse of a general," was the proud answer.
"What is a general?" Star hastened to inquire, and the Big Gray Horse
looked at him in surprise.
"A general is a great soldier who commands many men," he said. "General
Mackenzie owns me, but I was confused by the noise and the darkness and
thought that I was running with our troop horses. When I learned that I
was among the Indian ponies it was too late for me to escape, for the
Comanches chased me back into their own herd each time I tried to get
away."
"I was confused, but not afraid," the Old White Horse explained. "I have
been so many years a troop horse that I am not a coward in a fight. You
believe that, don't you?" He looked anxiously at the Big Gray Horse.
"Yes," it answered. "Neither a man nor a horse that has grown old in
the service turns coward when he grows old. Sometimes we horses run just
because other horses are running; sometimes we misunderstand our orders
and run wild. That was how many horses broke loose when the Indian boys
hit us over the heads and backs with those bits of buffalo hide. When
some picket-ropes broke, the rest of us thought we would be left behind,
so we all struggled until we were free. Then I ran, guided by the sound
of other hoofs in the darkness, and not waiting to know whether those
around me were troop horses or Comanche ponies. I thought I was doing
what was right and best."
"And then what happened?" Star questioned eagerly.
"The soldiers fired their guns, and many tried to catch the running
horses which were dragging long ropes. The Comanches were all around in
the darkness. Then all I really knew after that was that a lot of us
were among the Comanche ponies and the warriors were urging us on. It
was dawn when we halted, and the soldiers were nowhere to be seen."
"Nearly all of the White Troop horses are with us," the Old White Horse
spoke.
Star lifted his head and glanced over the peacefully grazing herd, where
a large number of white animals were mixed among the Comanche ponies.
They were easily picked out, not only because of their colour, but also
because they were much larger than the Indian ponies.
"Your fighting men cannot follow us," bragged Star, "for they have no
ponies now."
"You are wrong," replied the Big Gray Horse. "There are hundreds more
horses, hundreds more soldiers who will follow the Comanches. The white
men are like the blades of grass, the stars in the sky, or the leaves of
the trees in a great forest. No one can count them. Others will join our
masters and keep on the trail until the Indians are all conquered. I
know what I say, for I have listened to my General and all his officers
talking while they rode together."
"Why do they wish to conquer us?" demanded Star angrily. "The land, the
grass, the rivers belong to us! Why do the white men come out of far
places to take these things away from us?"
"I am only a horse," the other replied. "How can I tell? I only know
that my General holds the rein that guides me, and I love and obey him.
Sometimes while he rides slowly, he and the other officers talk
together. Then we, their horses, listen. So we learn much, but there are
many things none of us understand."
"Have you, too, heard them talk?" Running Deer questioned the Old White
Horse which had kept silent all this time.
"I do not belong to an officer," he said. "I am only a troop horse. A
soldier rides me and we must follow the officers. My rider is an old
soldier. I am a very old troop horse. Our duty is to obey, not ask
questions, nor reason. Whether we are on parade or fighting, all I have
to remember is to mind the reins quickly, to listen sharply for the
bugle calls, and to keep my eyes fixed on the little pointed flag of our
troop. For that is the troop guidon. Where it leads, we follow."
"We horses do not want to fight you ponies," the Big Gray Horse went on
as the Old White Horse stopped speaking. "We have no quarrel between
us."
"Maybe if the Indians and the white men could understand one another's
talk it would stop the fighting," Running Deer joined the conversation
again. "We horses understand one another and we do not want to fight.
Preloch understood the Comanche tongue, and she did not fight them. She
made peace between those who wished to fight in the tribe. When people
do not understand one another that must be the reason for all the
trouble!"
"Then white men never fight with one another!" Star exclaimed suddenly.
The Big Gray Horse and the Old White Horse hung their heads and were
silent, while the two Comanche ponies looked at them.
"_Do the white men fight one another?_" demanded Running Deer at last.
"Yes, sometimes," the Big Gray Horse replied. "There are white men who
steal, kill, betray, and oppress the weak and helpless. Those who know
the law and break it are punished by the law."
"But the Indians do not know the white man's law, neither do they speak
the same tongue," snorted Running Deer, while her eyes showed little red
sparks of anger. "It was the white men who fought the Quahadas and took
away Preloch and Prairie Flower."
"The Comanches had killed and stolen white women and children," replied
the Big Gray Horse. "So that was why the white men fought the Indians
and took Quannah's mother and sister captive."
"Then how are the white men any better than the Comanches?" Running Deer
snapped angrily. "You tell us that the white men are wise and good, and
that the Comanches should learn the white men's ways and their laws, and
yet you also say that the white men fight, steal, oppress, and kill one
another, and if the Comanches take a white man's squaw or children, it
is right for the white men to kill us, steal our women and children, and
destroy our homes! If that is the right law for them, it is the right
law for us. How can they teach us to be better than they are,
themselves?"
"Just as you speak, I once heard an officer speak," responded the Big
Gray Horse. "But when an order comes to an officer, he must obey. If we
horses feel the reins, hear the bugle calling, see the troop guidon
fluttering ahead of us, we ask no questions. Like our masters who ride
us, we obey, for wherever the flag leads, we must follow and uphold it.
There is much I do not understand, but I do know we horses have no
quarrel with the Comanche ponies."
"Let us leave those things to men," the Old White Horse said. "We horses
are good friends and will not bite or kick one another. Why should we
fight when there is grass enough for us all? The world is big!"
"You are right," was Running Deer's comment. "And now if you will come
with me I will show you where the grass is sweeter and more tender than
any other spot for miles around. Only a few ponies besides myself and
Star know the place. We will share it with you."
Side by side the troop horse and the horse of the general followed the
Comanche mare and her colt.