EUGENE’S PLAN.
The three friends were at that moment approaching the summit of a high
swell, and the noise which interrupted their song came from the other
side. It was an indistinct, muffled sound, and so very much like that
made by a heavily loaded wagon when rapidly driven, that they looked
toward the top of the swell, more than half expecting to see a runaway
team come quickly into view and dash down among them. But the noise
grew fainter instead of increasing in volume, and after listening a
moment the boys urged their horses forward and rode rapidly to the top
of the swell. Then they found that the sound was occasioned by a drove
of horses which had heard their voices, and were taking themselves off
with all the speed of which they were capable. Featherweight uttered
a cry of delight, but quickly followed it up with an ejaculation of
disappointment.
“I was in hopes they were the wild horses,” said he.
“And so they are,” returned Archie.
“Why, they don’t act as if they were very wild,” said Eugene. “See how
they shake their heads, and kick up their heels! Many a time have I
seen our own horses playing that way in the pasture.”
“No matter; they are the ones we are looking for; and that leading
horse belongs to the colonel. I’ve heard him described often enough to
know him.”
At first Archie’s companions could hardly believe it. Although the
horses ran rapidly they did not act as if they were frightened, but
pranced and curveted as if they were moved by the same spirit of
mischief that sometimes possesses a domestic horse, when he flourishes
his heels and retreats to the farthest corner of the pasture, as he
sees his owner coming to catch him. But there was the colonel’s horse!
There was no denying his identity, for the boys all knew him as soon
as they saw him. The wild steeds ran to the top of the nearest swell,
faced about and looked at the horsemen, snorted once or twice, and then
went to grazing as if nothing had happened.
“There they are,” said Archie, “and now what are we going to do—take a
good look at them and go back to camp?”
“No,” replied Featherweight. “We’ll give them a race of a mile or two,
just to be able to tell our friends that we have chased a drove of wild
horses. What do you say, Eugene?”
“Why,” replied the latter, after a little hesitation, “I say that I
have a plan in my head regarding those horses, if you will help me
carry it out.”
“Of course we will,” said Archie. “Anything for fun. That’s what we
came out here for.”
“It will keep us out on the prairie for three or four days and nights,”
continued Eugene.
“Then one of us had better go back to camp after our blankets,” said
Archie. “It is getting cold, and we’ll freeze without some covering.
Besides, if Dick is anything of a prophet, it will not be many days
before we shall find the ground covered with snow. We shall need some
food, too, and a supply of ammunition.”
“You’re sure you won’t laugh at me if my plan fails,” said Eugene.
“Certainly not.”
“Well, then, I’ll go back to camp after the things we need, if you and
Fred will stay and keep an eye on the horses.”
This plan being readily agreed to, Eugene turned and rode off at a
gallop, while Fred and Archie dismounted and prepared to pass the time
as pleasantly as they could until his return. They hobbled their horses
with their lariats, to prevent them from running off to join the wild
drove, turned them loose to graze, and seated themselves on the ground
to watch the mustangs.
Eugene had partly developed what he considered to be a grand scheme for
the capture of at least one of the wild horses. He had been thinking
of it ever since he first heard of the existence of the drove, and he
had finally hit upon something which seemed to hold out bright promises
of success. He had read somewhere that wild horses had been captured
by being kept in motion day and night, and allowed no opportunity
to take food, water or rest. Of course the swiftest and strongest
animal would soon wear out under such treatment, and when exhausted by
long-continued exertion, and weak from protracted fasting, he could be
easily run down and lassoed, and still he would be in nowise injured.
A day or two of rest and good care would restore him to full health
and vigor. Eugene had heard much of the speed of the colonel’s horse
and the fruitless attempts that had been made to capture him, and this
plan of his seemed to be just the thing. He thought it over in all
its details while he was on his way to the camp, and believed that he
could see his way clearly. He provided for every contingency, and told
himself that he knew just what to do in any emergency that might arise.
But after all, he found, to his great surprise, that there was one
very important matter that he had forgotten to take into consideration.
Eugene found the camp deserted by all save Dick and old Bob. These two
were almost always to be found there. They had worked hard, had seen
much excitement and met with many adventures during their sojourn at
Potter’s rancho, and were taking a good rest after it. They told Eugene
that Uncle Dick was visiting with the colonel at the Fort, and that the
rest of the Club had gone up the brook fishing.
“When they come back, whar’ll I tell ’em you’ve gone?” added Dick,
seeing that Eugene was busily engaged in gathering up various articles
that were lying about the camp. “I want to know wharabouts to look for
you when you’re wanted.”
“Well, you’ll find us somewhere along the foot of the mountains
between here and the Missouri river,” replied Eugene. “That’s not very
definite, I admit, but I can’t come any nearer answering your question.
We have found those horses!”
“Wal?” said the trapper.
“And we’re going to bring one of them back with us.”
“Sho!” exclaimed Dick. “You haint agoin’ to racin’ with them critters,
be you?”
“No, indeed. We know better than that. We are going to drive them down.”
Dick looked at Bob as if wondering whether or not he had heard aright,
and then arose and approached Eugene.
“What did you say you was goin’ to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you call it,” answered Eugene, “but we’re going to
keep those horses in motion until they’re tired out, and then we’re
going to catch one of them.”
“Youngster,” said the trapper, lowering his voice as if he were afraid
that some one might overhear what he was about to say, “that’s the only
way the colonel’s hoss can be ketched.”
“Then we can do it, can’t we?” exclaimed Eugene, delighted to hear his
plan endorsed by so high an authority.
“Sartin. Me an’ ole Bob’s jest been talkin’ about it. Now, how are you
goin’ to work it?”
“Why, we’re going to take after them and follow them up until we tire
them out, and then Archie will ride up and lasso one of them.”
Dick looked down at the ground and meditated a moment.
“I don’t reckon I see through it quite,” said he. “You don’t say
nothing about restin’ your own horses an’ yourselves.”
“Eh!” exclaimed Eugene.
“While you’re tirin’ out the wild hosses won’t your own get tired out
too, if you don’t give ’em a chance to eat an’ rest?”
Eugene’s hopes fell instantly. This was the important part of his plan
that he had not thought of. Of course if the wild steeds were to be
“driven down,” it was necessary that their pursuers should occasionally
be mounted on fresh horses, or else the chances were that by the time
the mustangs were exhausted, their own nags would be in no better
condition.
“Did you say anything to the leetle ’un about this?” asked Dick
presently.
“Who? Archie? No. I’ve kept it to myself.”
“Then that ’counts fur it. I didn’t think he’d go in fur sich a thing,
’cause he knows it can’t be did; an’ so will you arter you think it
over. Howsomever, I’ll tell you what you can do: You see—but if you go
you’ll have to camp out fur three or four nights—mebbe six or seven.”
“We don’t care for that. We’ll be prepared, you see,” said Eugene,
pointing to the bundle he was making up.
“An’ won’t your uncle care, nuther?”
“No. He knows that we used to camp out in the swamps of Louisiana for
weeks at a time.”
“An’ you won’t be afraid when you hear the coyotes a yelpin’ an’ a
howlin’ around you of nights, and you all alone on the prairy?”
“Of course not. We’ve heard wolves before we ever saw the prairie.”
“Wal, go ahead if you’re so sot onto it. The leetle ’un can take keer
of himself an’ you too; but if so be you should happen to get into any
difficulty, as you’d be sartin to do if that keerless Frank was along,
mebbe me an’ ole Bob’ll be around. An’ as fur drivin’ them hosses——”
Here the trapper proceeded to give Eugene some very explicit directions
as to the manner in which he ought to proceed in order to make his
experiment successful; but we will not stop to repeat them, as they
will all appear as our story progresses.
Eugene listened attentively, and after satisfying himself that he fully
understood his instructions, he gathered up his friends’ blankets
and his own, together with a goodly supply of bread and meat, some
ammunition for Archie’s Maynard and his Henry rifle and Fred’s, a
hatchet and a few other articles he thought they might need, and
strapping them in a bundle behind his saddle, mounted his horse and
rode gayly out of the camp. He laughed when he thought what a great
mistake he had made in laying out his first plan, and felt more certain
of success than ever. The trapper had assured him that failure was next
to impossible if the matter were rightly managed, and Eugene began to
enjoy in anticipation the reception that would be extended to him and
his companions when they rode into camp with the captured horse. Of
course they didn’t want any reward for restoring him to his owner, and
wouldn’t accept any. If the colonel would allow them to keep him a day
or two, just long enough to run a few races and take a little of the
conceit out of Frank, they would be abundantly satisfied.
A few minutes’ ride brought Eugene to the top of the swell where he
had left his friends, but they were not there. The wild steeds had
moved nearer to the hills during his absence, and Archie and Fred had
followed in order to keep them in sight. Eugene set up a loud shout and
presently heard a faint response. After repeating the call, to make
sure of the direction in which his friends had gone, he rode down the
swell and in a quarter of an hour joined his companions and found them
in their saddles slowly following the mustangs, which were moving in a
body toward the distant mountains.
The first thing Eugene did was to distribute the ammunition he had
brought with him and to divide his bundle, which was rather too
bulky for one horse to carry. While he was thus engaged his friends
reminded him that he had not yet told them what his plan was; so Eugene
went into details, to which the boys listened eagerly, and said in
conclusion:
“Dick assures me that if we keep the horses moving, we ought to travel
at least twenty-five miles between daylight and dark, and that will
bring us to the mountains the day after to-morrow. We must keep them
walking all the time, but we must not push them too closely, for if
we frighten them they will run away from us and we may never see them
again. If we keep them travelling as nearly north-west as we can, we
shall discover, when we come within sight of the mountains, a tall,
isolated rock, which, at a distance, looks exactly like a chimney.
Close to the foot of this rock is a gully, which leads to a beautiful
valley about twenty miles back in the mountains. Dick says that is the
horses’ stamping-ground, and if we can make them go in there we’ve got
them sure. This valley is about ten miles in circumference, and has no
outlet except the gully before spoken of; and all we’ve got to do is
to make our camp right in the mouth of this gully, so that they can’t
get out, and then relieve one another in the work of driving the horses
down.”
“Then we shall not really begin business until we reach this valley?”
said Featherweight.
“No,” replied Eugene. “While we are on the prairie the wild horses will
have the same chance to eat and rest that ours will; but when we once
get them cornered we’ll fix them. What do you think of it, any how?”
The boys were loud in their praises of the scheme, and Archie, who had
often read of such things, wondered he had not thought of it before.
During the next two days nothing transpired worthy of note. The boys
steadily followed the wild steeds, which finally seemed to become
somewhat accustomed to their presence. During the first few hours they
were very restive, and on several occasions, when the boys in their
eagerness followed them a little too closely, they took to their heels
and left them far behind. They turned out of the way once or twice
for water, but kept the same general course, and on the afternoon of
the third day brought their pursuers within sight of the landmark the
trapper had described to them.