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Updated: August 25, 2024
Weel, Dud, are ye glad? Ye hae kilt yer first moose!" "Yes," said Hemenway, "it's my first moose. But it's your first moose, too. And I think it's our last. Ye gods, what a fighter!" Copyright, 1907, by Charles Scribner's Sons. Used by permission of the publishers. II. The Wild-Horse Hunter By Zane Grey
But most riders did not abide long with Bostil, first because some of them were of a wandering breed, wild-horse hunters themselves; and secondly, Bostil had two great faults: he seldom paid a rider in money, and he never permitted one to own a fleet horse. He wanted to own all the fast horses himself.
The outcome of that visit was the hiring of both men to go on the wild-horse drive. Brown's claim had been jumped by strangers. It could not be gotten back without a fight. Brown had two horses and a complete outfit; Mac New had only the clothes on his back. "Fired me 'thout payin' my wages," he said, sullenly. "Who fired you, Mac?" inquired Pan. "Hardman, the !" replied Mac New. "Well!
I want to lead the horse round about, so I won't be seen by anybody." "Shore, thet'll be easy," replied Blinky. "I'll go with you. We can keep to the slope a ways an' then go down an' come up on the other side of town. No roads an' no houses." They returned to camp, and replenishing the fire sat around it talking of the wild-horse drive.
Slone seemed to know in what direction to go to find the trail, for he came upon it very soon. The pack horse wore hobbles, but he belonged to the class that could cover a great deal of ground when hobbled. Slone did not expect the horse to go far, considering that the grass thereabouts was good. But in a wild-horse country it was not safe to give any horse a chance.
For them the situation subtly changed. For weeks they had been three wild-horse wranglers on a hard chase after a valuable stallion. They had failed to get even close to him. They had gone to the limit of their endurance and of the outfit, and it was time to turn back. But Slone had conceived that strange and rare longing for a horse a passion understood, if not shared, by all riders.
"I seen the same," concluded Lawson, as nonchalant as a wild-horse wrangler well could be. "An' as fer me, now I allus lays perfickly still when the centipedes an' tarantulers begin to drop from their holes in the roof, same as them holes up there. An' when they light on me, I never move, nor even breathe fer about five minutes. Then they take a notion I'm dead an' crawl off.
Matthews is no fool. He couldn't risk murdering me in broad daylight, from ambush." "I'm not trustin' him," said Blinky, somberly. "But I admit the chances are he won't do thet." "You and Gus pack up for the wild-horse drive," went on Pan briskly. "We ought to get off in the morning. One of you ride out to see if Charley Brown will throw in with us. I'll see Dad at dinner.
Slone was a wild-horse hunter, a rider, and when that second of incredulity flashed by, then came the moment of triumph. No moment could ever equal that one, when he realized he stood there with a rope around that grand stallion's neck. All the days and the miles and the toil and the endurance and the hopelessness and the hunger were paid for in that moment.
Some says the first wild-horse hunters put 'em up. They was always there, all over the dry country, far back as ever I heard. You ask Juan if there ain't water not far off. See what he says. Oye, Juan! Tengo agua, poco tiempo?" The giant did not even lift his head, but answered listlessly, "Agua? Si," as though that were a matter of which all present must have equal knowledge.
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