Jack made Western remarks about me and my gun, as well as that mustang,
but I rejoiced in the Pacer's strength and beauty, and not for all the
mares in the bunch would I have harmed his glossy hide.
III
There are several ways of capturing wild horses. One is by
creasing--that is, grazing the animal's nape with a rifle-ball so that
he is stunned long enough for hobbling.
"Yes! I seen about a hundred necks broke trying it, but I never seen a
mustang creased yet," was Wild Jo's critical remark.
Sometimes, if the shape of the country abets it, the herd can be driven
into a corral; sometimes with extra fine mounts they can be run down,
but by far the commonest way, paradoxical as it may seem, is to walk
them down.
The fame of the Stallion that never was known to gallop was spreading.
Extraordinary stories were told of his gait, his speed, and his wind,
and when old Montgomery of the 'triangle-bar' outfit came out plump at
Well's Hotel in Clayton, and in presence of witnesses said he'd give one
thousand dollars cash for him safe in a box-car, providing the stories
were true, a dozen young cow-punchers were eager to cut loose and win
the purse, as soon as present engagements were up. But Wild Jo had had
his eye on this very deal for quite a while; there was no time to
lose, so ignoring present contracts he rustled all night to raise the
necessary equipment for the game.
By straining his already overstrained credit, and taxing the already
overtaxed generosity of his friends, he got together an expedition
consisting of twenty good saddle-horses, a mess-wagon, and a fortnight's
stuff for three men--himself, his 'pard,' Charley, and the cook.
Then they set out from Clayton, with the avowed intention of walking
down the wonderfully swift wild horse. The third day they arrived at
Antelope Springs, and as it was about noon they were not surprised to
see the black Pacer marching down to drink with all his band behind him.
Jo kept out of sight until the wild horses each and all had drunk their
fill, for a thirsty animal always travels better than one laden with
water.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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