the hunt of the wild horse.

“there must be buffalo in this neighbourhood,” said basil, looking to the ground as they rode on. “these ‘chips’ are very fresh. they cannot have lain for many days. see! there is a buffalo-road covered with tracks!”

as basil said this, he pointed to a trough-like hollow in the prairie, running as far as the eye could reach. it looked like the dry bed of a stream; but the hoof-tracks in the bottom showed that it was what he had called it,—a buffalo-road, leading, no doubt, to some river or watering-place. it was so deep that, in riding along it, the heads of our travellers were on a level with the prairie. it had been thus hollowed out by the water during heavy rains, as the soil, previously loosened by the hoofs of the buffaloes, was then carried off to the rivers. such roads the buffaloes follow at times, thousands of them keeping in the same trail. they travel thus when they are migrating in search of better pastures, or water—to which they know by experience the roads will conduct them.

our hunters did not follow this road far, as there was no certainty that it would bring them to where the animals then were. they crossed over, and kept on for the butte.

“voilà!” cried françois, “what are these?” françois pointed to several circular hollows that appeared in the prairie before them.

“buffalo-wallows, i declare!” said basil: “some of them are quite fresh too!”

“buffalo-wallows!” echoed françois; “what are they?”

“why, have you never heard of them, frank?” asked basil. “places where the buffalo wallow and tumble like horses and farm-cattle.”

“oh, that’s it,” said françois; “but what do they do it for?”

“well, that i don’t know. perhaps luce can tell.”

“some say,” said lucien, thus appealed to, “they do it to scratch themselves, and get rid of the flies and other insects that annoy them. others believe that they practise this curious exercise only by way of diversion.”

“ha! ha! ha!” laughed françois, “what funny fellows they must be!”

“there is yet another more curious explanation,” continued lucien, “which is this:—that the buffaloes make these hollows to catch water when it rains, so that they may come back to them and drink!”

“ha! ha! ha!” again laughed françois; “i can’t believe that, brother.”

“i would not have you neither,” said lucien; “of course, the supposition is not true—as the buffalo is not an animal possessing sufficient intelligence for that. it is only offered as a curious suggestion. it is certain, however, that the water collects in these holes during rain-time, and often remains there for days; and the buffaloes, wandering about, drink out of them. therefore, it may, in one sense, be truly said that the buffaloes dig their own wells! these often prove of service to other animals, as well as those who have made them. lost trappers and indians have been saved by finding water in them, when otherwise they would have perished from thirst.”

“how very round they are!” said françois; “why, they are perfect circles! how do the buffaloes make them so?”

“by laying themselves out at full length and spinning round and round like a wagon wheel upon its nave. they revolve with great rapidity, using their humped shoulders as a pivot, and their legs as levers. they sometimes continue this motion for half-an-hour at a time. no doubt they do this, as has been said, to scratch themselves; for, notwithstanding their thick hides and hair, they are much annoyed by insect-parasites. they do it, too, for amusement, or to give themselves pleasure, which is the same thing. you have often witnessed horses at a similar exercise; and was it not evident that they took a pleasure in it? have you not fancied so?”

“oh, yes,” cried françois, “i am sure horses enjoy a good tumble.”

“well, then, it is to be supposed the buffaloes do the same. getting rid of their tormentors, and pressing their hot sides into the fresh cool earth, is, no doubt, a source of enjoyment to them. they are not very cleanly; as they are often seen wandering about, so covered with dirt, that one cannot tell what colour their hide is.”

“well!” added françois, “i hope we shall soon come across one with a white hide!”

talking after this fashion, our young hunters continued their journey. they had ridden about ten miles, when basil—whose eye was all the time wandering around the prairie horizon—uttered an exclamation, and suddenly reined up his horse. the others, seeing him do so, stopped also.

“what do you see?” asked lucien.

“i do not know,” replied basil; “but there is something yonder upon the edge of the prairie—to the southward—do you see it?”

“yes; it looks like a clump of low trees.”

“no,” said basil; “they are not trees. this moment i saw one apart from the rest, and i do not see it now. it appeared to move in toward the mass. i fancy they are animals of some kind or other.”

“buffaloes, i hope!” cried françois, raising himself to his full height in the stirrups, and endeavouring to get a sight of them. but françois’ pony did not give him a sufficient elevation to enable him to see the objects; and he was, therefore, compelled to withhold an opinion as to what they might be.

“should we ride towards them?” asked lucien, addressing basil.

“i think they are moving this way,” replied the latter. “they extend more along the horizon, and that may be because they are getting nearer. buffaloes! no—as i live,” continued he, elevating his voice, “they are horsemen—perhaps mounted indians!”

“why do you think so?” inquired lucien, hurriedly.

“i saw one between me and the sky. i can tell the shape of a horse as far as i can see him. i am sure it was one. look! yonder goes another!”

“it is,” added lucien; “it is a horse. but see! there is no rider—no one on his back; and yonder’s another, also without a rider. ha! i know now—they are mustangs!”

“mustangs!” echoed françois; “good!—that will be something worth seeing.”

it soon proved that lucien was right. it was a drove of mustangs, or wild horses. basil was also right in saying that they were coming towards them; for in a few moments they appeared to be within less than a mile, and approaching at a rapid gallop.

they galloped closely together like a trained troop; and one could be perceived some lengths in the advance apparently acting as leader. now and then one would shy out of the ranks, and rear a moment apart from the rest, but would return again, and fall in with his companions. it was a rare sight to see them as they came on; and the ground thundered under their hoofs as though a squadron of cavalry was charging over it.

when within less than half a mile of the party, they seemed to notice the latter for the first time. all at once the foremost halted, threw up his head with a snort, and stood still. the others stopped, imitating the example of their leader. the latter was still some paces in the advance; while the breasts of his followers seemed to form a compact front, like cavalry in line of battle! after standing still for a few seconds, the leader uttered a shrill neigh, shied to the right, and dashed off at full speed. the others answered the call; and, instantly wheeling into the same direction, followed after. the movement was executed with the precision of a troop!

our hunters supposed the horses were about to pass them, and part company without coming closer. they all regretted this, as they were desirous of having a nearer view of these noble creatures. in order not to alarm them as they were coming up, all three had taken the precaution to dismount; and now stood partially screened by their own horses, yet holding the latter firmly—as these were terrified by the thundering tramp of the wild steeds.

in a moment the mustangs appeared opposite—that is, with their sides turned to the hunters; and the latter now saw with joy that they were not passing away, but galloping in a circle—of which they, the spectators, were the centre!

the circle in which the horses ran was scarcely half a mile in diameter, and they appeared to be approaching nearer to the centre. in fact, they were not following the circumference of a circle, but a spiral curve that contracted gradually inward.

the boys had now a fair view of them, and a beautiful sight it was. there were about two hundred in all, but they were of different colours—scarcely two of them being marked alike. there were black and white ones, and bay and roan. some were brown, some sorrel, and some of an iron-grey; and there were others—many of them—mottled and spotted like hounds! all had flowing manes and long waving tails; and these streamed behind them as they galloped, adding to the gracefulness of their appearance. it was, in truth, a beautiful sight, and the hearts of the boys bounded within them, while their eyes followed the moving troop as it circled round and round.

but the eyes of all three soon centred upon one—the leader, and a fairer object none of them had ever beheld. basil, who loved a fine horse more than any living thing, was in an ecstasy as he gazed upon this beautiful creature. it was no wonder, for a more perfect-looking animal could hardly have been conceived. he was larger than any of the herd, though still under the size of an english horse. his full chest and prominent eye-balls—his well-bound flanks and quarters—his light cylindrical limbs and small finely-shaped hoofs, showed of what race he was—an arab of the andalusian breed—a descendant of the noble steeds that carried the first conquerors of mexico. his proportions were what a judge would have pronounced perfect; and basil, who, in fact, was a judge, had already said so. he was white all over—white as the mountain-snow. as he galloped, his nostrils appeared open and red, his eyes stood prominently forth, his mane was tossed on both sides of his neck from his crest to his withers, and his long tail streamed horizontally behind him. his free, graceful movements—like that of all his followers—showed that no saddle had ever been laid across his back.

as basil gazed upon this noble creature, he became imbued with an irresistible desire to possess him. it is true he already had a horse, and as fine a one as ever wore saddle; but it was basil’s weakness to covet every fine horse he saw; and this one had inspired him with a most particular longing to become his owner. in a few seconds’ time, so eager had grown this desire, that basil felt as if he would have given all he had in the world—black hawk, perhaps, excepted—to be the master of this prairie steed. throwing a lasso, as basil could, and mounted as he was, it would strike you that he might soon have gratified his wish; but it was not so easy a thing, and basil knew that. he knew that he might without difficulty overtake and fling his noose over some of the “fags” of the herd; but to capture the leader was quite another thing—a feat never accomplished upon the prairies, even by the indians themselves. he had often heard this, nevertheless, he was determined to try. he had great confidence in the speed and bottom of black hawk.

he communicated his determination to his brothers, in a whisper—lest he might frighten the mustangs, now circling very near. lucien tried to dissuade him, offering as a reason, that it would lead them from their course, and might separate them from each other.

“no,” said basil. “go on to the butte, you and françois. i shall come to you—perhaps i may be there before you. do not say a word, brother,—you need not. i must have that horse; and i shall capture him if it cost me a fifty-mile gallop.”

while basil was speaking, he drew closer to his left stirrup, looked to the lasso that hung coiled upon the horn of his saddle, and then stood ready to mount. lucien saw it was of no use to urge his advice farther, and ceased to interfere. françois would fondly have joined basil in the chase; but his diminutive pony rendered the idea too absurd to be acted upon.

during all this time the wild horses had continued their evolutions. at intervals they would halt at a signal from their leader, and wheel into line, facing inward towards the little group. in this position they would remain for a few seconds, with heads erect, gazing with curious wonder at the strange intruders upon their domain. some of them would paw the ground, and snort as if in anger. then the foremost would utter his shrill neigh, and all would go off again, circling about as before.

they had got within less than two hundred yards of where the hunters stood, but it was evident they intended coming no nearer. on the contrary, they showed symptoms of bearing off. at each fresh movement from a halt, they turned their heads for the prairie, and then came circling back again—as though they had not yet quite satisfied their curiosity.

during their last halt—or what basil believed might be the last—he again cautioned his brothers to keep on to the butte, and quietly placing his foot in the stirrup, vaulted into the saddle. the movement caused the mustangs to start; but, before they could turn themselves, the young hunter had plied the spur, and made several springs towards them across the prairie. he looked not at the drove—he cared not which way they might go—his eye rested only on the white leader, and towards him he rode in full charge.

the latter, when he saw this sudden movement, stood for a moment, as if in surprise. then giving a wild neigh—far different from any of the calls he had hitherto uttered—wheeled to the right, and led off in a gallop, the rest following at the top of their speed. as the rearmost came round upon the prairie, basil was not a dozen yards from them; and in a few springs had got so close that he could easily have thrown his lasso over some of them. in turning, however, he was left far behind; but he soon recovered his distance, and spurred on, bearing slightly to one side of the drove. he did not wish to get in amongst them—as he believed that might be dangerous, and would only impede him. his object was to head the drove, or in some way to separate the leader from the others. this was what he wanted first; and to this task he bent himself with all his energy.

on flew the wild steeds straining themselves to their utmost speed. on followed the hunter,—apparently in reckless pursuit, but carefully guiding his horse as he rode. his lasso hung at his saddle-peak. he had not yet touched it—time enough for that.

on flew the wild horses, and closer followed the daring hunter, until miles of the prairie lay between him and the starting-point. in a few minutes he was no longer visible to those he had left behind.

but the small andalusian steeds were no match for the godolphin arab. the herd had changed its shape. the horses no longer ran in a body, but in a long string—each taking place according to his speed—and far in advance of all, like a meteor, glanced the snow-white leader.

the hindmost were soon passed—each swerving off from the track, as soon as he saw himself headed by the great dark horse that carried the strange and dreaded object upon his back. one by one they were passed, until black hawk had forged ahead of the whole drove; and his rider now saw nothing before him but the white steed, the green prairie, and the blue sky. he looked not back. had he done so, he would have seen the mustangs scattering in every direction over the plain. but he looked not back. all that he now cared for was before him; and he plied the spur freshly and galloped on.

he had no need to use the spur. black hawk seemed to think that his credit rested upon the result, and the faithful brute was doing his best. on the other hand, the wild horse felt that his life, or at least his freedom, depended upon it, and this was enough to urge him to his utmost. both flew like the wind—pursuer and pursued.

as they parted from the herd, there was not more than three hundred yards between them; and they must have passed over some miles afterwards, before this distance was greatly lessened. their line of flight was as straight as an arrow; and from this it was evident that the mustang usually trusted to his hoofs to save him from his enemies.

in a race like this, however, the pursuer has the advantage of the pursued. the latter, always anxious, is constrained to look back; and is, therefore, less sure of the ground that lies before. he loses his proper attitude for speed, and is besides in danger of stumbling. so it was with the wild horse. he did not stumble—he was too sure of foot for that—but his head was occasionally thrown to one side, until his large dark eye commanded a view of his enemy behind him. this, of course, to some extent, retarded him. it was only at these moments that basil could gain upon him; and the proofs he thus gave of his superior powers, only rendered the latter the more eager to capture and possess him.

after a long chase the distance between them was still two hundred paces at the least. the young hunter, with a feeling of impatience, once more plied the spur in a fresh effort to come up; while the other seemed to spring forward as swiftly as ever.

all at once basil observed that the white steed, instead of running straight forward, appeared to go from side to side, moving in crooked lines! basil saw this with surprise. he looked to discover the cause. as his eye glanced along the ground, he perceived that it was uneven—covered, as far as he could see, with little hillocks. the mustang was among them. it was this, then, that was causing him to run so strangely. basil had hardly made the observation, when he felt his horse sink suddenly under him, and tumble headlong upon the prairie!

the rider was flung from his seat, though not much hurt. he rose at once to his feet. black hawk struggled up at the same time, and stood still, his wet flanks rising and falling as he breathed and panted. he was not in a condition to gallop farther. but even had he been fresh, basil saw that the chase was now at an end. the little hillocks, which he had just noticed, stood thick upon the prairie, as far as the eye could reach; and among these the wild horse was gliding off as swiftly as ever. when the hunter got to his feet again, the other was nearly a quarter of a mile distant, and at that moment sent back a shrill neigh, as if triumphing over his escape—for he had escaped beyond a doubt.

basil saw this with chagrin. he saw that further pursuit was not only useless, but dangerous; for although he had never seen anything like these little mounds before, he knew very well what they were, and the danger of riding at a rapid rate among them. he had received a timely lesson—for he was just entering their borders when his horse fell—fortunately to rise again with sound limbs. he knew he might not get off so safely a second time, and he had no inclination to take the chances of another tumble. he was not going to risk the loss of his favourite black hawk for the white steed, even had he been certain of capturing the latter. but this was no longer likely. on the contrary, he might, instead of making a capture, lose his own horse, were he to continue the chase; and that he well knew would be a terrible situation. with the best grace he could, therefore, he abandoned the pursuit, leaving the mustang to scamper off alone. he watched him for several minutes, until the latter, far, far away, faded like a white cloud into the pale blue of the horizon.

the young hunter now bethought him of returning to his companions. in what direction was he to go? he looked around for the butte. there it was; but, to his astonishment, it lay directly before him, and nearer than when he last saw it! he had been all this while galloping towards it; but in his haste had not noticed this. lucien and françois must be behind, thought he, and would soon come that way. the best thing he could do, therefore, would be to wait until they should come up; and, with this intention, he sat down upon one of the little hillocks, leaving his horse to wander about at will.