 | CHAPTER XXV. The Crayon miscellany |  |
25. CHAPTER XXV.
Ringing the wild Horse.
We left the buffalo camp about eight o'clock,
and had a toilsome and harassing march of two
hours, over ridges of hills, covered with a ragged
meagre forest of scrub-oaks, and broken
by deep gullies. Among the oaks I observed
many of the most diminutive size; some not
above a foot high, yet bearing abundance of
small acorns. The whole of the Cross Timber,
in fact, abounds with mast. There is a
pine-oak which produces an acorn pleasant to
the taste, and ripening early in the season.
About ten o'clock in the morning, we came to
where this line of rugged hills swept down into
a valley, through which flowed the north fork of
the Red river. A beautiful meadow about half
a mile wide, enamelled with yellow autumnal
flowers, stretched for two or three miles along
the foot of the hills, bordered on the opposite
side by the river, whose banks were fringed
with cottonwood trees, the bright foliage of
which refreshed and delighted the eye, after
being wearied by the contemplation of monotonous
wastes of brown forest.
The meadow was finely diversified by groves
and clumps of trees, so happily dispersed, that
they seemed as if set out by the hand of art.
As we cast our eyes over this fresh and delightful
valley, we beheld a troop of wild horses,
quietly grazing on a green lawn, about a mile
distant to our right, while to our left, at nearly
the same distance, were several buffaloes; some
feeding, others reposing and ruminating among
the high rich herbage, under the shade of a
clump of cottonwood trees. The whole had
the appearance of a broad beautiful tract of pasture
land, on the highly ornamented estate of
some gentleman farmer, with his cattle grazing
about the lawns and meadows.
A council of war was now held, and it was
determined to profit by the present favourable
opportunity, and try our hand at the grand hunting
manœuvre, which is called ringing the wild
horse. This requires a large party of horsemen
well mounted. They extend themselves in each
direction, singly, at certain distances apart, and
gradually form a ring of two or three miles in
circumference, so as to surround the game. This
has to be done with extreme care, for the wild
horse is the most readily alarmed inhabitant of
the prairie, and can scent a hunter at a great
distance, if to windward.
The ring being formed, two or three ride towards
direction. Whenever they approach the bounds
of the ring, however, a huntsman presents himself
and turns them from their course. In this
way, they are checked and driven back at every
point; and kept galloping round and round this
magic circle, until, being completely tired down,
it is easy for the hunters to ride up beside them,
and throw the lariat over their heads. The
prime horses of most speed, courage, and bottom,
however, are apt to break through and escape,
so that, in general, it is the second rate
horses that are taken.
Preparations were now made for a hunt of
the kind. The pack-horses were taken into the
woods and firmly tied to trees, lest, in a rush of
the wild horses, they should break away with
them. Twenty five men were then sent under
the command of a lieutenant, to steal along the
edge of the valley within the strip of wood that
skirted the hills. They were to station themselves
about fifty yards apart, within the edge of
the woods, and not advance or show themselves,
until the horses dashed in that direction. Twenty
five men were sent across the valley, to steal
in like manner along the river bank that bordered
the opposite side, and to station themselves
among the trees. A third party of about the
same number, was to form a line, stretching
the two wings. Beatte and our other half-breed
Antoine, together with the ever officious
Tonish, were to make a circuit through the
woods, so as to get to the upper part of the valley,
in the rear of the horses, and to drive them
forward into the kind of sack that we had formed,
while the two wings should join behind them
and make a complete circle.
The flanking parties were quietly extending
themselves, out of sight, on each side of the valley,
and the residue were stretching themselves,
like the links of a chain, across it, when the wild
horses gave signs that they scented an enemy:
snuffing the air, snorting, and looking about. At
length they pranced off slowly toward the river,
and disappeared behind a green bank. Here,
had the regulations of the chase been observed,
they would have been quietly checked and turned
back by the advance of a hunter from among
the trees; unluckily, however, we had our wild-fire
Jack-o'-lantern little Frenchman to deal with.
Instead of keeping quietly up the right side of
the valley, to get above the horses, the moment
he saw them move toward the river, he broke
out of the covert of woods, and dashed furiously
across the plain in pursuit of them, being
mounted on one of the led horses belonging to
the Count. This put an end to all system. The
in the chase. Away they all went over the
green bank; in a moment or two the wild horses
reappeared, and came thundering down the
valley with Frenchman, half-breeds and rangers,
galloping like mad, and yelling like devils behind
them. It was in vain that the line drawn across
the valley attempted to check and turn back the
fugitives. They were too hotly pressed by their
pursuers; in their panic they dashed through the
line, and clattered down the plain. The whole
troop joined in the headlong chase, some of the
rangers without hats or caps, their hair flying
about their ears, others with handkerchiefs tied
round their heads. The buffaloes, who had been
calmly ruminating among the herbage, heaved
up their huge forms, gazed for a moment with
astonishment at the tempest that came scouring
down the meadow, then turned and took to heavy
rolling flight. They were soon overtaken:
the promiscuous throng were pressed together
by the contracting sides of the valley, and away
they went, pell-mell, hurry-scurry, wild buffalo,
wild horse, wild huntsman, with clang and clatter,
and whoop and halloo, that made the forests
ring.
At length the buffaloes turned into a green
brake, on the river bank, while the horses dashed
up a narrow defile of the hills, with their
several of them, having fixed his eye upon a
fine Pawnee horse, that had his ears slit, and
saddle marks upon his back. He pressed him
gallantly, but lost him in the woods. Among
the wild horses was a fine black mare, far gone
with foal. In scrambling up the defile, she tripped
and fell. A young ranger sprang from his
horse, and seized her by the mane and muzzle.
Another ranger dismounted, and came to his assistance.
The mare struggled fiercely, kicking
and biting, and striking with her fore feet, but a
noose was slipped over her head, and her struggles
were in vain. It was some time, however,
before she gave over rearing and plunging, and
lashing out with her feet on every side. The
two rangers then led her along the valley by
two long lariats, which enabled them to keep at
a sufficient distance on each side, to be out of
the reach of her hoofs, and whenever she struck
out in one direction, she was jerked in the other.
In this way her spirit was gradually subdued.
As to little Scaramouch Tonish, who had
marred the whole scheme by his precipitancy,
he had been more successful than he deserved,
having managed to catch a beautiful cream-coloured
colt, about seven months old, that had
not strength to keep up with its companions.
The mercurial little Frenchman was beside himself
with his prize. The colt would rear and kick,
and struggle to get free, when Tonish would
take him about the neck, wrestle with him, jump
on his back, and cut as many antics as a monkey
with a kitten. Nothing surprised me more, however,
than to witness how soon these poor animals,
thus taken from the unbounded freedom of
the prairie, yielded to the dominion of man. In
the course of two or three days the mare and
colt went with the led horses, and became quite
docile.
| CHAPTER XXV. The Crayon miscellany | |