In the midst of all these things, however, Kit Carson was unmoved. The expression on his face did not change. He simply was determined to carry through to its completion the plan which he had formed for the capture of the leader of the ponies that had so strongly appealed to his admiration. Suddenly the scout wheeled and shouted: “Now is the time! Look out for the openings! All I want is for you to keep him from breaking through.” At that moment Carson started swiftly forward on the animal he was riding. Trembling, weak, and streaked with froth and sweat, the black horse stared at the unexpected advance for a moment, and then with a desperate effort tried to renew his flight. There was no display of anger now. The fierceness of the black beast was gone. His head was drooping and his weakness was apparent in every forward step that he took. No longer was there the flash of fire to be seen in his eyes. There was in them now an expression of agony mingled with fear. Kit Carson, however, advancing slowly until he was within ten yards of the animal he was determined to secure, swung his lasso several times above his head and then cast it toward the black horse. Silence had followed the action of the scout, and almost breathless in their excitement every one watched the curling, twisting leather strip as it slowly made its way toward its mark. A sigh of relief escaped Reuben’s lips when the noose, almost as if it were conscious of what it was doing, dropped over the head of the black horse and settled about his neck. The pony which Kit Carson was riding was familiar with his task. It was not the first time the scout had captured wild horses, although never before had he attempted to take one so beautiful and fleet and strong. The pony braced its feet and stood back in its tracks to throw its strength against the pull that would be made upon it. The black horse, now conscious of the tightening noose, leaped forward in one final despairing effort to escape from his pursuers. How vain it all was. As the powerful animal dashed ahead, the noose tightened, the line became taut, and he was thrown, almost turning a somersault as he came to the ground. Quickly the scout rushed forward, and a moment later, before the captive was able to rise, his forefeet were hobbled, and the beautiful wild pony, which only recently had been the proud leader of a drove, was helpless in the hands of his captors. For a moment sounds of mingled rage and terror were emitted by the trembling animal as he lay helpless upon the ground. His eyes, however, had now taken on an expression of intense hatred, and suddenly by a supreme effort he arose to his feet and remained standing. His ears were flattened against his head, and for a moment even Kit Carson hesitated before he approached the angry and trembling beast. Turning to his companions the scout said quietly: “I want every one of you now to go back to camp.”