SIGHT. Although short-sighted, I have, with the aid of eyeglasses, bringing my vision up to normal, seen waggon dust at sixteen miles, a colliery smoke at twenty-three miles, and detail of a mountain scarp at seventy miles in the clear prairie air. So far as I could get any direct evidence, I never knew a horse to see anything at much more than a couple of hundred yards. It seems to be only in civilization where the smells and sounds are bewildering, that the horse becomes long-sighted up to perhaps a mile. HEARING. The value of a horse's sense of hearing as compared with that of a man is very difficult to judge. On a still night I have heard men's calls from behind double windows at one and a half miles; and am not at all sure {194} that an average horse beats that. And yet, judging by the constant signalling of a horse's ears which point at every sound, I think his sense of hearing catches vibrations above the register of human ears, and many notes at close range too faint to impress our senses. Whatever a horse may smell, hear or see, he points out with nice gestures of the ears and nostrils which are of infinite value for a man to read and understand. They convey to the practised eye all sorts of warnings and useful little hints. It is the training in peace of the habit of observation which makes the scout for war. [Sidenote: The fear of shadows] THE FEAR OF SHADOWS. Once I took a range horse into a forest where there were flocks of sheep, herded a good deal of nights by cougars (_Felix concolor_) who prospered on their mutton. These cougars used to come round my camp, liked it, I think, because there was no gun-smell, and sang most wonderfully, sitting so near that I could see the gleam of firelight on their eyes. I liked them, but my horse would stand astride the fire trembling. I tried to explain to him that this was vanity, because he was really far too thin to be edible. While the cougars had nice fat sheep for the asking, why should they care for horse bones! But all the signs he gave of loneliness and fear {195} I have seen many a time since then when I have taken range horses far into the woods. [Sidenote: Halts] HALTS. If only to give my horses a chance to stale and, with a gelding, to make sure that the sheath is clean, I make a short halt after each two hours. At every halt the genuine horseman throws his rein to the ground so that a horse will be tripped if he attempts to break away. Range horses are trained to stand to a thrown rein, and if necessary are given a sack of earth to drag until they learn the wisdom in obedience. If one has to tie the horse to anything, a supple bush is better than a rigid tree, lest he pull back with his whole weight for the purpose of breaking the rein or rope by which he has been fastened.