Strong was the rope that Humpback plaited, and smooth and free was the noose at the end; and then, with food in our skin pouches, we went a day’s journey to where we knew the creatures we sought fed in the valleys of the high hills. A night we slept there, and in the afternoon of that day we saw a herd of the little horses feeding slowly toward us down the narrow valley. Rich was the grass, but here and there throughout the valley’s narrowest part great rocks had fallen down from the heights, or had been rolled down in some ancient flood; and behind one of these we crouched, having first laid the open noose hidden in the grass some yards away. Should the herd feed near the rock, surely some one horse would find its feet within the snare. So we waited long, but nevertheless patiently, for this was a great undertaking. Slowly the herd came on, and finally approached so near us that we no longer dared thrust forth our heads to note its progress. Finally its leader, a brown stallion, passed at some distance, while the herd fed scatteringly behind him. Then we saw, with delight, that, approaching so that she would pass not far from the rock, was a mare with a little colt beside her. Ah! could we but capture her! We remained as motionless as the great rock beside us, our hands gripping the rope, and our feet braced firmly. The slight wind blew toward us, and our scent would not reach the horses, and so they fed on, unknowing. Nearer and nearer came the mare, and at last she placed a fore foot fairly within the noose. I jerked the rope fiercely, the noose came up and closed upon the mare’s leg tightly and fairly just above the knee; and, as she leaped, we clutched the rope with a shout, and leaned backward with all our might. The herd, led by the stallion, broke into flight, and was unseen in a moment as it swept around a turn in the valley. Only the mare and her frightened colt remained, but with the mare we had all we could do. She was but a little horse, and we were two great men; but with her first leap she pulled us from our feet, and it seemed that she might finally get away. The struggle was long, but at last the desperate creature wearied of her leapings, and stood still, shuddering. We tried to approach her; but she began leaping again in her wild terror, and so threw herself, lying with her head down a little slope, and unable easily to regain her feet. We rushed in upon her, and pressed her head to the ground, and she was helpless. She lay very still, but all the time the young colt stumbled about, calling and whinnying in a weak way. What should we do?