The sound of Jerry's voice, as he related the story of his adventures the night previous, awoke me in the early morning.

I, dreamingly, heard him say,—

"I didn't see the critter when he jumped; not till he lit right onto my shoulder, and the heft of him hed knocked me down and he was atop o' me. Yer see that gin him a heap the start.

"I seed his big mouth right clus to my face, an' his jaws wide open; so I rammed my left arm right in a 'tween 'em, so that he couldn't git no purchase onto me to chaw, and he hadn't really hed no chance ter bite, when the judge fired. He didn't do it a mite too soon, though, you bet. Ef it hadn't a bin for you boys—well, boys hain't got no bizness on the plains, no how. I'm all right now, and good for a dozen painters yet; but this is the biggest one I ever seed. Thunder! but I must hev thet skin; ain't it putty?"

I laid and listened for a short time to the exclamations of wonder and admiration uttered by the boys while examining the carcass, with no little amusement.

"I tell you, I should like to have been there," said Hal. "I could have shot him with my rifle as easily as any one."

"Yes, but you wouldn't have dared to," replied Ned.

"Wouldn't I?" rejoined Hal. "You just wait and see. I wasn't frightened a bit the night the Indians got into camp; and if it hadn't been for old Jerry, I'd a shown 'em—"

"Pshaw! Why didn't you show me, instead of crying, when we were up that tree, yesterday? You wasn't very brave then," said Ned.

"Umph! I didn't know anything about hogs," explained Hal.

"And I reckon you don't know much 'bout painters, either, youngster. Brag's a good dog, but Holdfast's a better one," broke in old Jerry.

"Isn't it time for a start, Jerry?" called I; "and how's your shoulder this morning?"

"It's past time fur a start, and nigh upon noon. My shoulder's putty sore, but I kin git along all right with it."

I sprang to my seat, and found it nearly noon; indeed, so late that Jerry advised remaining encamped until the following morning, although Magoffin's train had been gone some hours.

After dinner, Hal, Ned, and myself saddled up for a ride over the plain in search of antelope, and had gone some three or four miles from camp, when Ned called my attention to a horseman in the distance, leisurely riding along, almost diagonally to our own course.

We hastened forward so as to intercept him; but, seeing us approach, he turned and rode towards us.

He was a Mexican, tall and gaunt, mounted upon a superb black mustang stallion. His dress consisted of a short spencer jacket of dark blue cloth, with loose sleeves; gaudily embroidered and laced along the seams; pants, confined by a scarlet silk sash at the waist, and open at the sides, through which the wide Mexican drawers were plainly visible; a broad, brimmed, low-crowned hat, of Spanish manufacture, with a band of silver bullion, covered his head, and boots of alligator hide, heavily spurred, were upon his feet.

He rode a deep-treed Mexican saddle, with housings of leather, grotesquely stamped: upon the pommel hung, neatly coiled, a lasso of beautifully braided rawhide.

He also carried a long rifle. His powder-horn and bullet-pouch, being suspended from his left shoulder.

As he approached he bid us a courteous good-day in English, and inquired if we had chanced to see a "gang" of wild mustangs during the day; saying that he was known as Antonio, the "mustanger" of the Leona, and that his occupation was catching and taming wild mustangs.

We assured him we had seen nothing of the herd, which he appeared to think must be in our immediate vicinity, from the character of the tracks he had been following.

The boys were eager to learn the modus operandi of catching wild mustangs; and at once began to ask so many questions, that Antonio was obliged to tell them he could not explain very well; but, if they would ride with him for a couple of hours, he thought he could show them how it was done.

Of course they became eager to accompany him; and, nothing loth myself to see the sport, I assented to their request; and, joining the "mustanger," rode towards the south-west, and in less than an hour he pointed out a small "gang" quietly feeding some three or four miles away.

As we drew near, Antonio declared that he knew the "gang," which was too wild to approach with the lasso, but he might possibly get one by "creasing."

"How do you do that?" inquired Ned.

"With my rifle," answered Antonio.

"What! shoot one of those horses?" exclaimed Hal.

"If you'll wait awhile, youngster, mebbe you'll better understand it," said Antonio. "Now you watch me; and, when you meet a 'gang' of mustangs again, you'll know just what to do."

It became evident that the herd was aware of our approach, for they started; and, in an incredibly short time, had approached so near, that we could plainly see their elegant forms and color, as they proudly curvetted and gamboled over the plain fully five hundred yards away. Suddenly Antonio halted and raised his rifle to his shoulder.

"Oh! don't shoot, please," cried Hal.

Before the words were well out of his mouth, the man fired, and one of the herd dropped to the ground. The next instant he was by the mustang's side, securing him with ropes.

In a little while the animal so far recovered from the effect of the shot, as to make the most violent attempts to get upon his feet; but the Mexican had so effectually secured him, he soon ceased his efforts, and lay perfectly still. Antonio then cautiously loosed the rope in such a manner that he finally struggled to his feet, all the time, making the most determined efforts, to escape.

They were of no avail, however; and, when the mustang fully realized this, he stood perfectly still, permitting Antonio to approach and gently caress him. He was a noble old fellow,—a snow-white stallion with brown mane and tail, and trim, clean limbs that gave promise of great speed.

As no wound was visible upon the animal, I became quite as anxious to ascertain the philosophy of "creasing" as the boys themselves; nor was it until Antonio explained the point aimed at, that I understood it.

The ball had passed close to the upper crease of the neck, just above the cervical vertebrae; and, for the moment, completely paralyzed the large nerve of the spine, causing the creature to drop as quickly as though shot through the brain.

We stopped some time to admire the splendid fellow, who had Apparantly entirely recovered from the effect of the shot. We all congratulated Antonio upon his skill as a marksman, and then turned in the direction of camp without starting any game, however, until we reached the river bottom, when Hal was fortunate enough to secure a wild-turkey; and, with this trophy of his skill, we were obliged to be content.

The following morning found us on the road right early. Our route lay over a high, arid plain covered, as far as the eye could see, with a prairie-dog town, and for hours my ears were greeted with—

"Did you see that one?"—"Ain't they funny little things? so cunning!"— "How can we catch one?"—"Just look at that owl!" and a hundred similar exclamations.

The boys were vastly amused by the curious antics of these little fellows, who, although not human, possess many of the most distinguishing characteristics of humanity, in their actions. They have often been classed with the marmot by prairie Travellers; but, to my own mind, partake more of the nature of the squirrel or rabbit. In frisking, flirting, sitting erect, or barking, they resemble the former; while, in feeding and burrowing, they may be classed with the latter.

They are exclusively herbivorous, and live upon the fine, short grass that is generally found growing in abundance in the vicinity of their towns, which are always located upon arid, elevated plains, at a great distance from water.

Prairie Dogs

During the two days that our route lay through this town, we made many attempts to capture one of the little fellows; but they cleverly evaded all the snares set for them, invariably dodged at the flash of our pistols, chattering away as lively as ever, while the little brown owls and rattlesnakes that shared their houses with them fell frequent victims to the boys' rifles.

After leaving their town, Hal declared, that, if he and Ned could remain behind the train for a few hours, he knew they could capture one; becoming so urgent in his appeal, that I finally yielded a reluctant consent to the project, cautioning them under no circumstances, to remain away from the train more than two or three hours. This they faithfully promised not to do, and departed; notwithstanding Jerry pronounced it as downright foolish a proceedin' as he ever seed.

Four or five hours later, when we reached our camping ground for the night, neither of them had overtaken us, and I began to feel alarmed at their prolonged absence. My apprehensions were somewhat relieved for the moment by one of the men, who informed me he had seen their animals coming over the "divide" some three or four miles in our rear.

A few minutes later, however, when the riderless animals came galloping furiously in, with their long lassos dragging in the dust behind them, the camp became a scene of confusion indescribable.

Labor of all kinds was suspended, and everyone anxious to hear what everyone else thought.

Jerry gave it as his opinion, that the animals had escaped from the place where Hal and Ned had left them; still, he reckoned some one ought to go back and search for them, "Cause the plains warn't no place for boys, no how."

Saddling our horses and taking three of the men with us, Jerry and myself rode back towards the dog-town, discharging our pistols and making all the noise possible, in order to attract the attention of the youngsters in the darkness. Occasionally we listened for a reply; but not a sound could we hear, save the snarling yelp of some prairie-dog, disturbed by the unusual noises, or the sharp, shrill cry of the night-hawk, that rapidly swooped over our heads.

In a state of great anxiety, we passed a wretched night; and, at daylight, commenced a thorough search for traces of the missing boys. Finally Jerry discovered their tracks in the road leading towards camp; and it seemed possible that we might have missed them in the darkness, and, if we at once returned, should find them with the train.

We had proceeded scarcely more than a mile on the way back to camp, when I noticed that Jerry, who was a short distance in advance, suddenly stopped, as though waiting for me to overtake him. As I rode up, he pointed to a fresh Indian trail, crossing our road almost at right angles, and said in a low tone,—

"Ez sartin ez you're livin', the Comanches hev got 'em! That trail ain't twelve hours old, and there's a dozen of the varmints ef there's one."

"Then let us instantly follow and retake them," was my reply.

"That's a heap easier said than done," replied the old man. "We won't stan' much show, chasin' a dozen or twenty Comanches, and they ez likely ez not, forty miles ahead of us. Still, we've got ter git them boys somehow; and the fust thing towards it is ter go ter camp and git some grub, 'cause a man can't fite wuth a cent on a empty stomach."

There was truth in Jerry's observation. We therefore urged our animals into a brisk canter; but, when within about two miles of our camp, his keen eyes detected, upon a rise of the ground some distance to our right, a solitary figure, motionless upon a horse.

At the sight we halted; for the figure commenced waving a large blanket in the air, then urged his animal forward, and came toward us at full run.

Lone Indian

"He shook that air blanket ter let us know that he's friendly and wants ter speak to us; but I reckon I'd better find out who he is, afore he comes any nearer" said Jerry, as he spurred his horse forward to meet him.

Upon reaching a small knoll a few hundred yards in advance of us, Jerry suddenly stopped and held up his right hand, with the palm outward. Then he slowly moved it backward and forward a few times; when, to my great surprise, the Indian checked his horse, and sat as though awaiting further orders. Again Jerry raised his hand; this time moving it before and across his face three or four times.

The Indian, who appeared to comprehend these signs perfectly, answered by making a graceful, undulating motion with his right hand, not unlike the wriggling movement made by a snake in crawling. Then he elevated both hands high above his head, clasped closely together; then, apparantly satisfied with this pantomime, he started at a rapid pace toward us. Jerry turned; and, seeing my looks of astonishment, hurriedly said,—

"That ere's the lingo of the plains. Every Injun understands that. I told the feller to stop and explain who he was. He answered that he was a Comanche, and friendly. Mebbe we can git some news of the boys from him, though we shan't ef he ain't a mind to tell, for Injuns is mighty clus-mouthed critters."

At this moment the Comanche rode up. Bringing his horse abruptly to a stand-still, he extended a very dirty hand, ornamented with finger-nails that closely resembled the talons of an eagle.

"Me Senaco, good Injun," he exclaimed, in pretty fair Spanish.

"Of course you be," replied Jerry, in English. "Whoever seed a bad Injun, ef you let him tell his story?

"We've got to pretend to believe the lyin' varmint or we shan't find out nothin' from him, that's sartin."

As this was the first opportunity I ever had of examining a live Comanche, I regarded this specimen with some curiosity; for a friendly Comanche in those days was indeed an anomaly.

The Indian's body was entirely naked, with the exception of a breech-cloth and pair of leggins. The leggins extended from the knee, down; and, with his moccasins, were made of buckskin, heavily fringed and ornamented.

A large red blanket covered his left shoulder, fastened beneath his right arm in such a manner as to leave the arm free and unobstructed, and then hung loosely behind him, almost touching the ground as he sat upon his horse. The animal was a rough looking little pony, that bore evidence of being both tough and fleet.

The fellow's face was deeply marked by the small-pox, and hideously painted with vermilion and ochre; while, from his ears, were suspended, heavy rings of brass wire. These, with the paint, gave him a most diabolical expression, that was in no manner relieved by the shaggy locks of unkempt black hair that hung around his head.

His only weapon was a long, murderous-looking, iron-headed spear, which, with his lariat, he held in his right hand.

We made several efforts to find out what the fellow's object in hailing us was, before he condescended to give it. Then he said that he had that mornin met with a party of Comanches, who had with them two prisoners,— mere boys. He was angry that braves should capture such children, for only squaws, not warriors, made prisoners of boys.

After much talk, he had made the Indians ashamed of the act, and they were willing to release the captives for a small ransom. He was a friend, and begged us to remember, was acting as an embassador, in search of the party to which the children belonged.

"The cussed, lyin' old heathen," exclaimed Jerry. "I wonder does he 'spose I'm green enuff to swaller that story o' his'n. It's true enuff though, that they've got the youngsters, and it's likely we kin git 'em agin, though I've always telled you, boys hain't no bizness on the plains, no how."

After long haggling and bargaining between Jerry and the Indian, the amount of ransom was agreed upon, and the brave rode off to bring the boys, while Jerry and I started for the train to procure the blankets, powder, brass wire, beads and tobacco, we were to give in exchange for them.

An hour or two later, two Indians appeared upon the summit of the high ground with the boys; then Jerry and I, with the goods, rode forward to make the exchange. This was soon effected, and they left us with profuse expressions of regard; although, from the haste displayed in removing their ill-gotten wealth, it was evident that they placed as little confidence in our honesty, as we did in theirs.

We were overjoyed to get the boys back safe and sound; and, though Jerry was disposed to grumble at the idea of having them along, in a trip across the plains, he was glad to listen to Ned's explanation of the manner of their capture.

While they were watching the dogs, their ponies got frightened and ran away; when they discovered this, they also started for camp.

After it grew dark, they saw at a long distance from the road the light of a camp-fire. Thinking it ours, they started for it, and walked directly into the midst of a party of fifteen Comanches, who were as much surprised at seeing two youngsters armed with rifles coming into their midst, as they were frightened at finding themselves surrounded by naked, painted savages.

The Comanches immediately took possession of their fire-arms, and stripped them of nearly all their clothing. Then they tried to ascertain where they came from, and how they had become separated from their party.

The boys told them, as well as they were able by signs, that they were lost, and that their friends would give a great many goods if they would show them the way back to our camp.

This seemed to please the Indians, who soon after, took a large kettle from off the fire and set it before them, motioning them to eat. The kettle held a stew of what they thought was antelope meat, so they ate heartily of it, for they were very hungry. When they had nearly satisfied their appetites, Hal fished up from the depths of the mess the fore-leg and foot of a dog. This was decidedly an unpleasant revelation, and both became very sick and vomited freely, to the great amusement of the Indians.

They were then placed under guard, and soon after fell asleep. In the morning they were rudely awakened and told to mount a pony, to which they were securely tied, so as to prevent any attempt to escape.

Many miles were travelled in this manner. The boys became anxious, and were endeavoring to prepare themselves for the worst, when, from the top of a high bluff, they saw us awaiting their arrival.

The sudden transition from despondency to joy, quite overpowered them; and, for the first time, they gave way to their feelings.

"Both of us tried as hard as we could," said Ned, "to make 'em think we didn't care a snap about it. But we did, though, I can tell you. We were mighty glad when we saw you, wasn't we, Hal?"

This question was too much for Hal. The boys looked into each others faces for a moment, then burst into tears.

Everybody about camp was delighted with their safe return, and they were obliged many times to repeat their story, not forgetting a description of their supper on dog meat, in the Comanches' camp.

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