The next morning as I was going to work Sam came to me, saying: “Put down your instruments; we have something on hand more interesting than surveying.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll see. Get your horse ready; we’re going to ride.”

“And how about the work?”

“Nonsense! You’ve done your share. However, I expect to be back by noon, and then you can measure, as much as you will.”

After arranging with Bancroft for my absence, we started; and as Sam made a mystery of the object of our expedition, I said nothing to show that I suspected what it was.

We went back of the ravine where we were surveying to a stretch of prairie which Sam had pointed out the day before. It was two good miles broad, and surrounded by woody heights, from which flowed a brook irrigating the plain. We rode to the westerly boundary, where the grass was freshest, and here Sam securely tied his horse—his borrowed horse—and let him graze. As he looked about him an expression of satisfaction shone on his rugged face, like sunshine on rocks. “Dismount, sir,” he said, “and tie your horse strong; we’ll wait here.”

“Why tie him so strongly?” I asked, though I knew well.

“Because you might lose him. I have often seen horses go off with such companions.”

“Such companions as what?” I asked.

“Try to guess.”

“Mustangs?”

“How did you know?”

“I’ve read that if domestic horses weren’t well tied they’d join the wild ones when a herd came along.”

“Confound it! you’ve read so much a man can’t get the best of you.”

“Do you want to get the best of me?”

“Of course. But look, the mustangs have been here.”

“Are those their tracks?”

“Yes; they went through here yesterday. It was a scouting party. Let me tell you that these beasts are uncommonly sharp. They always send out little advance-parties, which have their officers exactly like soldiers, and the commander is the strongest and most experienced horse. They travel in circular formation, stallions outside, mares next them inside, and the foals in the middle, in order that the males may protect the mares and young. I have already shown you how to catch a mustang with a lasso; do you remember? Would you like to capture one?”

“Certainly I would.”

“Well, you’ll have a chance before noon to-day.”

“Thanks, but I don’t intend to catch one.”

“The dickens you don’t! And why not?”

“Because I don’t need a horse.”

“But a real frontiersman never asks whether he needs a horse or not.”

“Now look here, Sam; only yesterday you were speaking of the brutal way the white men, though they do not need meat, kill the buffaloes in masses, depriving the Indians of their food. We agreed that was a crime against beasts and men.”

“Assuredly.”

“This is a similar case. I should do wrong to rob one of these glorious fellows of his freedom unless I needed a horse.”

“That’s well said, young man; bravely said. Any man, any Christian worth calling so, would feel thus; but who said anything about robbing him of his freedom? Just put your education in lasso-throwing to the proof, that’s all.”

“That’s a different thing; I’ll do that.”

“All right; and I’ll use one in earnest, for I do need a horse. I’ve often told you, and now I’ll say again: Sit strong in your saddle, control your horse well when you feel the lasso tighten, and pull; for if you don’t you’ll be unseated, and the mustang will gallop off, taking your horse and lasso with him. Then you’ll lose your mount and be, like me, only a common foot-soldier.”

He was about to give more advice, but stopped suddenly, and pointed to the northern end of the prairie. There stood a horse, one single, solitary horse. He walked slowly forward, not stopping to graze, turning his head first to one side, then to the other, snuffing the air as he came.

“Do you see?” whispered Sam. “Didn’t I tell you they’d come? That’s the scout come on ahead to see if all’s safe. He’s a wise beast! See how he looks in all directions! He won’t discover us, though, for we have the wind towards us.”

The mustang broke into a trot, running to the right, then to the left, and finally turned and disappeared as we had seen him come.

“Did you see him?” cried Sam admiringly. “How wise he is! An Indian scout could not have done better.”

“That’s so; I’m surprised at him.”

“Now he’s gone back to tell his general the air is pure. How we fooled him! They’ll all be here shortly. You ride back to the other end of the prairie, and wait there, while I go towards them and hide in the trees. When they come I’ll chase them, and they’ll fly in your direction; then you show yourself, and they’ll turn back towards me. So we’ll drive them back and forth till we’ve picked out the two best horses, and we’ll catch them and choose between them. Do you agree?”

“How can you ask? I know nothing of the art of mustang-catching, of which you are past master, and I’ve nothing to do but follow your directions.”

“All right. I have caught mustangs before to-day, and I hope you’re not far wrong in calling me a ‘master’ of that trade. Now let’s take our places.”

We turned and rode in opposite directions, he northward, I southward to the spot where we had entered the prairie. I got behind some little trees, made one end of the lasso fast, and coiled the other ready for use. The further end of the prairie was so far off that I could not see the mustangs when they first appeared, but after I had been waiting a quarter of an hour I saw what looked like a dark cloud rapidly increasing in size and advancing in my direction. At first it seemed to be made up of objects about as big as sparrows, then they seemed like cats, dogs, calves, and at last I saw them in their own proportions. They were the mustangs in wild gallop, coming towards me. What a sight these lordly beasts were, with their manes flying about their necks, and their tails streaming like plumes in the wind! There were at least three hundred head, and the earth seemed to tremble beneath the pounding of their hoofs. A white stallion led them, a noble creature that any man might be glad to capture, only no prairie hunter would ride a white horse, for he would be too conspicuous to his enemies.

Now was the time to show myself. I came out, and the startled leader sprang back as though an arrow had pierced him. The herd halted; one loud, eager whinny from the white stallion which plainly meant: Wheel, squadron! and the splendid fellow turned, followed by all his companions, and tore back whence they had come. I followed slowly; there was no hurry, for I knew Sam Hawkins would drive them back to me. I wanted to make sure I was right in what I had seen, for in the brief instant the herd had halted it seemed to me that one of them was not a horse, but a mule. The animal that I thought a mule had been in the front ranks, immediately behind the leader, and so seemed not merely to be tolerated by its companions, but to hold honorable rank among them.

Once again the herd came towards me, and I saw that I was not mistaken, but that a mule really was among them, a mule of a delicate light brown color, with dark back-stripe, and which I thought had the biggest head and the longest ears I had ever seen. Mules are more suitable for rough mountain-riding than horses, are surer-footed, and less likely to fall into abysses—a fact worth consideration. To be sure they are obstinate, and I have known a mule be beaten half to death rather than take another step, not because it was overladen or the way was hard, but simply because it would not. It seemed to me that this mule showed more spirit than the horses, and that its eyes gleamed brighter and more intelligently than theirs, and I resolved to capture it. Evidently it had escaped from its former owner and joined the mustangs.

Now once more Sam turned the herd, and we had approached each other till I could see him. The mustangs could no longer run back and forth; they turned to the side, we following them. The herd had divided, and I saw that the mule was with the more important part, still keeping beside the white horse, and proving itself an unusually strong and swift animal. I pursued this band, and Sam seemed to have the same design.

“Get around them; I left, you right,” he shouted.

We spurred our horses, and not only kept up with the mustangs, but rode so swiftly that we headed them off from the woods. They began to scatter to all sides like chickens when a hawk swoops down among them; and as we both chased the white stallion and the mule, Sam cried: “You’ll always be a greenhorn. Who else would pick out a white horse?”

I answered him, but his loud laugh drowned my reply, and if he thought I was after the white horse it did not much matter. I left the mule to his tender care, and in a moment he had come so near her that he threw the lasso.

The noose encircled the beast’s neck, and now Sam had to hold on as he had directed me to do, and throw himself backward to make the lasso hold when it tautened. This he did, but a moment too late; his horse did not obey on the instant, and was thrown by the force of the jerk. Sam flew through the air, and landed on the ground with a thump. The horse shook himself free, and was up and off in a moment, and the mule with him, since the lasso was fast to the saddle-bow.

I hastened to see if Sam was hurt, and found him standing, much shaken, but not otherwise the worse. He said to me in mournful tones: “There go Dick Stone’s chestnut and the mule without saying good-by.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No. Jump down and give me your horse.”

“What for?”

“To catch them, of course. Hurry up.”

“Not much; you might turn another somersault, and then both our horses would be gone to the four winds.” With these words I put my horse after the mule and Dick’s horse. Already they were in trouble, one pulling one way, the other another, and held together by the lasso, so I could easily come up with them. It never entered my head to use my lasso, but I grabbed the one holding them, wound it around my hand, and felt sure the day was won. I drew the noose tighter and tighter, thus easily controlling the mule, and brought her back, together with the horse, in apparent subjection to where Sam stood.

Then I suddenly pulled the noose taut, when the mule lost her breath and fell to the ground.

“Hold on fast till I have the rascal, and then let go,” shouted Sam, springing to the side of the prostrate beast. “Now!” he cried.

I let go the lasso, and the mule instantly jumped up, but not before Sam was on her back. She stood motionless a moment in surprise, then rushed from side to side, then stood first on her hind legs, then on her fore legs, and finally jumped into the air with all four bunched together, and her back arched like a cat’s. But still little Sam sat fast.

“Don’t get near; she’s going to try her last hope and run away, but I’ll bring her back tamed,” shouted Sam.

He proved to be mistaken, however; she only ran a little way, and then deliberately lay down and rolled. This was too much for Sam’s ribs; he had to get out of the saddle. I jumped from my horse, seized the lasso, and wound it around some tough roots near at hand. The mule, finding she had no rider, got up and started to run off; but the roots were strong, the noose drew tight, and again the animal fell. Sam had retired to one side, feeling his legs and ribs, and making a face as if he had eaten sauerkraut and marmalade.

“Let the beast go,” he said. “I believe nobody can conquer her.”

“Well, I guess not,” said I. “No animal whose father was no gentleman, but a donkey, is going to shame me. She’s got to mind me. Look out.”

I unwound the lasso from the bushes, and stood astride the mule, which at once got up, feeling herself freed. Now it was a question of strength of legs, and in this I far surpassed Sam. If a rider presses his beast’s ribs with strong knees it causes intense pain. As the mule began to try to throw me as she had Sam, I caught up the lasso, half hanging on the ground, and fastened it tight behind the noose. This I drew whenever she began any of her tricks, and by this means and pressure of the knees I contrived to keep her on all fours.

It was a bitter struggle, strength against strength. I began to sweat from every pore, but the mule was dripping, and foam fell from her lips in great flakes. Her struggles grew more and more feeble, her heavy breathing became short gasps, till at last she gave in altogether, not willingly, but because she was at her last limit, and stood motionless with bulging eyes. I drew long, deep breaths; it seemed to me as if every bone and sinew in my body were broken.

“Heavens! what a man you are!” cried Sam. “You’re stronger than the brute! If you could see your face you would be scared; your eyes are staring, your lips are swollen, your cheeks are actually blue.”

“I suppose so; that comes of being a tenderfoot who won’t be beaten, while his teacher gives in and lets a horse and a mule conquer him.”

Sam made a wry face. “Now let up, young fellow. I tell you the best hunter gets whipped sometimes.”

“Very likely. How are your ribs and other little bones?”

“I don’t know; I’ll have to count ’em to find out. That’s a fine beast you have under you there.”

“She is indeed. See how patiently she stands; one feels sorry for her. Shall we saddle and bridle her and go back?”

The poor mule stood quiet, trembling in every limb; nor did she try to resist when we put saddle and bridle on her, but obeyed the bit like a well-broken horse. “She’s had a master before,” said Sam. “I’m going to call her Nancy, for I once had a mule by that name, and it’s too much trouble to get used to another. And I’m going to ask you to do me a favor.”

“Gladly; what is it?”

“Don’t tell at the camp what has happened this morning, for they’d have nine days’ sport with me.”

“Of course I won’t; you’re my teacher and friend, so I’ll keep your secrets.”

His queer face lighted up with pleasure. “Yes, I’m your friend, and if I knew you had a little liking for me, my old heart would be warmed and rejoiced.”

I stretched out my hand to him, surprised and touched. “I can easily give you that pleasure, dear Sam,” I said. “You may be sure I honestly care for you with real respect and affection.”

He shook my hand, looking so delighted that even my young self-sufficiency could perceive how lonely this rough, cranky old frontiersman was, and how great was his yearning for human sympathy.

I fastened Dick Stone’s horse with the lasso, and mounting mine, as Sam got on Nancy, we rode away.

“She’s been educated, this new Nancy, in a very good school,” Sam remarked presently. “I see at every step she is going to be all right, and is regaining the old knowledge which she had forgotten among the mustangs. I hope she has not only temperament but character.”

“We’ve had two good days, Sam,” I said.

“Bad ones for me, except in getting Nancy; and bad for you, too, in one way, but mighty honorable.”

“Oh, I’ve done nothing; I came West to get experience. I hope to have a chance at other sport.”

“Well, I hope it will come more easily; yesterday your life hung by a hair. You risked too much. Never forget you’re a greenhorn tenderfoot. The idea of creeping up to shoot a buffalo in the eye! Did ever any one hear the like? But though hunting buffaloes is dangerous, bear-hunting is far more so.”

“Black bear?”

“Nonsense! The grizzly. You’ve read of him?”

“Yes.”

“Well, be glad you don’t know him outside of books; and take care you don’t, for you might have a chance to meet him. He sometimes comes about such places as this, following the rivers even as far as the prairie. I’ll tell you more of him another time; here we are at the camp.”

“A mule, a mule! Where did you get her, Hawkins?” cried all the men.

“By special delivery from Washington, for a ten-cent stamp. Would you like to see the envelope?” asked Sam, dismounting.

Though they were curious, none asked further questions, for, like the beast he had captured, when Sam wouldn’t he wouldn’t, and that was the end of it.