CAPTURING A MUSTANG.
It struck Ned that there was something very strange in the continued
absence of the two hunters.
In thinking over the particulars of that rather curious buffalo hunt, he
could not believe it possible that he was more than two miles from where
he had made his start after the creature, and where he separated from
them. All three were upon the easterly side of the herd, so that the
trail made by his own animal could not have been obliterated by the
hoofs of the buffaloes, and nothing could be easier than to follow it.
Where, then, were they? What was the cause of their absence? These were
questions which he asked himself again and again, and which he was
unable to answer in any manner satisfactory to himself.
Suddenly it occurred to him that by climbing one of the trees near at
hand, he might extend his view, and perhaps gain a portion of the
knowledge he was so desirous of obtaining. He acted upon the thought at
once, and, selecting the tallest, first concealed his rifle, and then
climbed to the very topmost branches. There he was rewarded by a
magnificent view, and one which promised him some of the results he was
seeking. With this extension of his field of vision he discovered more
than one evidence that he was not in a solitude. In the first place, by
looking to the southward, a mass of dust and vapor was visible,
indicating the presence and progress of some sort of herd, perhaps a
drove of sheep from New Mexico, under the convoy of Indians who had shot
the rightful owners and stampeded their property. Looking westward,
another clump of trees was discerned, from the center of which came just
enough smoke to show that there must be a camp fire beneath.
"I'll bet they are there!" exclaimed Ned, to himself, "and it may be
they have started the fire on purpose to guide me to them."
The point to which his attention was thus directed was no more than a
mile distant, and he wondered that he had not noted it before. It
resembled in many respects the one in which he passed the night, and he
saw from the course of the stream which ran through the latter, that it
most probably watered the former where he believed the hunters were in
camp.
Turning his eyes in another direction, the young wanderer was greeted by
a sight which agitated him scarcely less. There, no more than a quarter
of a mile distant, quietly grazing beside the winding stream which
flowed at the base of the tree, was the very mustang which had been
captured by the hunters and from whose back he had been thrown when in
pursuit of the buffalo. He instantly lost all interest in the smoke of
the camp fire in the greater interest he felt in the question of
securing possession of the steed. Could he but remount him he would not
care particularly whether he met the hunters or not, for, once upon the
back of such a steed, he would consider himself competent to make the
rest of the journey alone.
"What's to hinder?" he asked himself, as he fixed his eyes longingly
upon the steed. "Dick says none of the Apaches have any animal that can
overtake him, and all I have to do is to keep his head turned toward the
southwest. There is a trail through the mountains yonder, and Corporal
Hugg told me that there is a trail all the way. But can I catch him?"
He enjoyed in anticipation the pleasure he would feel when, possessing
rifle, ammunition and horse he should resume his journey westward and
the delight and joy of his father when he should clasp him in his arms
again. He could have spent several hours building his air-castles in
this manner, had he not checked himself and resolutely faced the
difficulty before him. Looking again at the mustang, he was to be seen
with his beautiful Indian blanket somewhat soiled from contact with the
dirt, but cropping the grass with the air of an equine which expected to
spend the day at it.
Ned decided to try and steal upon him from the rear, thinking, possibly,
that he might get so close that when the frightened animal discovered
him, he could step forward and grasp the bridle before the mustang could
gallop away. Accordingly, he circled out upon the prairie until he got
directly behind the animal, when he began his approach. The horse
continued quietly eating until he was within a hundred feet, when he
shifted his position so that his side was exposed. Startled lest he
should be seen, Ned dropped down upon the grass and waited for him to
resume his first attitude. After crouching in this manner for something
like ten minutes, without any change taking place, he decided that as
"the mountain would not come to Mohammed then Mohammed should go to the
mountain," and he began crawling through the grass, with his eye upon
his prize. To accomplish this without attracting notice was a delicate
task, but he succeeded perfectly. Getting the mustang in exact range, he
resumed his advance upon him, advancing until he was within twenty feet.
This was more favorable than he dared hope, and his heart beat high with
expectation. He almost felt the warm body of the noble steed beneath
him. And now, inch by inch, he stole forward, like an Indian scout
moving upon a sleeping enemy until he could reach a point where he could
bury his tomahawk in his skull.
"I wonder whether he will use those heels upon me?" reflected the lad,
when he had reduced the intervening distance to a dozen feet. "If he
were only blind in one eye, and I could get upon that side; but then he
isn't."
It seemed to him that the greatest danger was the mustang hearing the
throbbing of his heart, which was now beating like a trip-hammer; but
the horse was as unconscious as if he were made of stone. Still nearer,
until it appeared as if he had to make but a single leap forward, and he
could grasp the long, flowing tail, and he felt that the moment had come
when he must make the attempt. Crouching with one hand thrust out, he
lifted one foot and advanced a few inches. Another step, and he could
lay his hand upon him. At this exciting juncture, the horse abruptly
ceased eating and raised his head. Ned saw it, and paused in an agony of
suspense.
[Illustration: STILL NEARER, UNTIL IT APPEARED AS IF HE HAD TO MAKE BUT
A SINGLE LEAP FORWARD.]
Looking straight off upon the prairie, the mustang gave a faint whinney,
as if he scented danger from a point directly opposite to where the
figure of the boy was stealing upon him. For a minute the two held these
stationary positions; and then, as the lad moved a few inches again, the
keen ears of the mustang told him the truth.
Pricking his ears forward, he turned his head half way round, so that he
saw the crouching figure directly at his heels. Then he turned his head
still further, and gathered himself for a leap. But Ned was expecting
this; and, as quick as a flash, he leaped forward and caught the tuft of
hair hanging over his forehead, dropping his gun and seizing at the same
moment, with the other hand, the bridle-rein. The mustang made his leap,
but the lad held on, and, by a quick, powerful effort threw one leg over
his shoulders and slid upon his back in a twinkling. The horse was
outwitted, defeated, and the boy was his conqueror.
"Hurrah!" shouted the latter, overflowing with exultation. "Thank the
Lord! I've had better fortune than I expected."
The mustang was not an ugly-tempered creature, but would have given the
lad the slip, could he have done so. It may have been that because he
was nothing but a boy, he underestimated his capacity too much; but he
had been fairly outgeneraled, and he submitted with a grace which cannot
be too highly commended. He instantly became docile, and turned in ready
obedience to the rein, and trotted back to where the gun lay upon the
ground. Here Ned was obliged to descend again, but he kept a tight grasp
upon the strap, and scrambled back again as soon as he had recovered it.
It seemed to him, as he did so, that there was something like a
mischievous twinkle in the eye of the pony. He appeared to say:
"It don't do to trust my species too far, my lad; for we prefer to be
free rather than slave. However, you are a brave little fellow, and have
done so well that I think I must stand by you hereafter."
Now that Ned was himself again, he turned the head of his animal toward
the grove, where the thin smoke could still be seen creeping up through
the tree tops.
"I will have quite a story to tell Dick and Tom," he reflected, as he
rode along at an easy gallop. "I killed my buffalo, lost my horse, and
caught him again. I don't believe that they themselves could have done
much better."