CHAPTER XXV—THE CAPTIVE LEADERInstantly Kit Carson and Reuben, together with the men who were still on the open plain, dashed toward the entrance. Reuben was able to see the tired horse when he dashed through the little valley and fled to the exit on the opposite side.In a moment, however, the two men who were waiting there, shouting in their loudest tones and vigorously beating upon their tins, advanced upon the startled animal, which immediately turned back in his tracks and again started toward the opening by which he had entered. Again the terrified beast turned back when he found the passageway blocked by several of his pursuers.The noble animal stopped and gazed partly in fear and partly in anger at the men, and then with repeated snorts of defiance began to circle the little enclosure. Several times he stopped, and to Reuben it seemed as if he had decided to turn and attempt to fight his way through.Kit Carson and his friends, however, gave the pony no rest. Whenever he stopped some of the men bore down upon him with shouts mingled with an occasional discharge of a gun and loud beatings upon the tins. In this manner they compelled the horse to keep running and prevented him from obtaining any rest.Around and around the enclosure the poor beast ran until it seemed to Reuben as if the weary animal must drop from sheer exhaustion. Not once was he permitted to stop for rest. The men were shouting, discharging their rifles, beating upon their tins, and continually doing their utmost to prevent the leader of the drove from passing them or pausing in his flight.To Reuben the pitiful aspect of the noble animal soon became doubly strong. The expression in his eyes as well as his manner showed that he was nearly exhausted. His breathing was very laboured and his heaving flanks showed how difficult his flight had become.For an hour the maddening chase continued. By that time the black horse had stumbled and almost fallen several times. Indeed, it seemed to Reuben as if the poor beast each time would be unable to regain his footing and continue his mad flight. Once more there welled up in Reuben’s heart a feeling of pity for the animal which had made such a desperate struggle for freedom.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.”“But we don’t want to leave you here with that black demon,” suggested Jack.“I’m going to stay here alone,” said Kit Carson quietly. “You need not have any fears that I shall be hurt, and it will not be long before I shall come to the camp myself.”Reuben glanced appealingly at the scout, seeking permission to remain without voicing his wish. Kit Carson, however, smiled and shook his head. Reuben was to go back with the other trappers. Reluctantly the half-dozen men rode slowly out of the opening in the enclosure and started toward the camp.“I don’t like to leave him there,” said Jack, slowly shaking his head as he spoke. “That horse is as dangerous as a grizzly and twice as powerful.”“That may be so,” admitted one of the men, “but I don’t care how strong it is Kit Carson has a way of taking all that out of it.”“I knew a man once who had his head bitten off by a horse,” suggested one of the trappers.“I reckon his head must have been about the size of a walnut,” laughed the trapper.“Never you mind,” said the first speaker; “a horse has a powerful big mouth and its teeth are strong. Did you ever see two horses fight?”“Yes.”“Well, there’s no sight like it in the world. They make you think of two demons. A good many times they’ll fight until one or the other is killed, and sometimes neither one comes out of the fight alive.”“Well, I would rather have them fight one another than to fight me,” said the first trapper. “I don’t envy Kit his job back yonder.”Reuben had been silent throughout the conversation, and his fears for his friend were greatly increased in consequence of it. He was becoming alarmed for the safety of the lithe little scout, but there was nothing to be done except to carry out his desires, and in silence he proceeded on his way to the camp.When the men arrived they found their companions eager listeners to the story they had to tell of the capture of the black horse. Others of the men also were concerned now for the safety of the scout, but against the suggestion that they should go to his relief the strong protests made by the men who had accompanied Carson in the chase at last prevailed, and no one departed from the camp.Meanwhile, although it was seldom that reference was made to the fear in the heart of every one, the anxiety among the trappers increased as the slow moments passed. When an hour had elapsed the suggestion was renewed by Reuben that the men should go to the aid of their leader. But the suggestion was again refused. Another hour passed, and still there were no signs of the coming of the missing trapper.A half-hour later, however, Kit Carson was seen approaching the camp, riding his own pony and leading his captive. The black horse was following meekly, his dejected bearing clearly showing the sufferings he had undergone. The scout made no comment when he rode into the camp. He at once quietly dismounted and threw the bridle rein over the head of the pony he had been riding and then turned to his captive.At first it seemed as if the spirit of the black horse was broken. In a moment, however, when Kit Carson tried to lead forward the nearly exhausted animal, the wild pony reared and with a scream of anger attempted to strike the scout with his forefeet. Carson, however, was too quick, and the attempt of his prisoner to injure him proved futile.Again the scout pulled upon the halter, although as Reuben watched him he was puzzled to understand how the daring man had succeeded in placing a halter on the head of the powerful animal. The pony this time responded, and although he was apparently unaware of what he was doing, he followed his captor as he led him to a stake which had been securely driven into the ground on the border of the camp. There the captured horse was tied. Once more, however, Kit Carson barely escaped the onrush of the beast as he dashed upon him with wide-open jaws. It was impossible for any one in the camp now to hobble the animal, and for a time he was left to his vain efforts to escape. Desperately the poor beast pulled upon the thongs that held him, but without avail. After a struggle of a few minutes the attempt was abandoned, and for a time it seemed as if the black horse, his spirits drooping and his whole bearing dejected, had at last decided to yield to his fate.Kit Carson declared that the horse should not be fed or watered throughout the night. When morning came, with some oats in his hat which he was holding in his outstretched hand, the scout again approached the captive. Hunger and thirst by this time had deprived the beast of still more of his fiery energy. He was weak now as well as suffering. Stretching forth his head, he ate a few oats, and then, apparently overcome by his recollection of his humiliation, with a scream of anger he arose upon his hind feet and again endeavoured to crush the scout.
Instantly Kit Carson and Reuben, together with the men who were still on the open plain, dashed toward the entrance. Reuben was able to see the tired horse when he dashed through the little valley and fled to the exit on the opposite side.
In a moment, however, the two men who were waiting there, shouting in their loudest tones and vigorously beating upon their tins, advanced upon the startled animal, which immediately turned back in his tracks and again started toward the opening by which he had entered. Again the terrified beast turned back when he found the passageway blocked by several of his pursuers.
The noble animal stopped and gazed partly in fear and partly in anger at the men, and then with repeated snorts of defiance began to circle the little enclosure. Several times he stopped, and to Reuben it seemed as if he had decided to turn and attempt to fight his way through.
Kit Carson and his friends, however, gave the pony no rest. Whenever he stopped some of the men bore down upon him with shouts mingled with an occasional discharge of a gun and loud beatings upon the tins. In this manner they compelled the horse to keep running and prevented him from obtaining any rest.
Around and around the enclosure the poor beast ran until it seemed to Reuben as if the weary animal must drop from sheer exhaustion. Not once was he permitted to stop for rest. The men were shouting, discharging their rifles, beating upon their tins, and continually doing their utmost to prevent the leader of the drove from passing them or pausing in his flight.
To Reuben the pitiful aspect of the noble animal soon became doubly strong. The expression in his eyes as well as his manner showed that he was nearly exhausted. His breathing was very laboured and his heaving flanks showed how difficult his flight had become.
For an hour the maddening chase continued. By that time the black horse had stumbled and almost fallen several times. Indeed, it seemed to Reuben as if the poor beast each time would be unable to regain his footing and continue his mad flight. Once more there welled up in Reuben’s heart a feeling of pity for the animal which had made such a desperate struggle for freedom.
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.”
“But we don’t want to leave you here with that black demon,” suggested Jack.
“I’m going to stay here alone,” said Kit Carson quietly. “You need not have any fears that I shall be hurt, and it will not be long before I shall come to the camp myself.”
Reuben glanced appealingly at the scout, seeking permission to remain without voicing his wish. Kit Carson, however, smiled and shook his head. Reuben was to go back with the other trappers. Reluctantly the half-dozen men rode slowly out of the opening in the enclosure and started toward the camp.
“I don’t like to leave him there,” said Jack, slowly shaking his head as he spoke. “That horse is as dangerous as a grizzly and twice as powerful.”
“That may be so,” admitted one of the men, “but I don’t care how strong it is Kit Carson has a way of taking all that out of it.”
“I knew a man once who had his head bitten off by a horse,” suggested one of the trappers.
“I reckon his head must have been about the size of a walnut,” laughed the trapper.
“Never you mind,” said the first speaker; “a horse has a powerful big mouth and its teeth are strong. Did you ever see two horses fight?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there’s no sight like it in the world. They make you think of two demons. A good many times they’ll fight until one or the other is killed, and sometimes neither one comes out of the fight alive.”
“Well, I would rather have them fight one another than to fight me,” said the first trapper. “I don’t envy Kit his job back yonder.”
Reuben had been silent throughout the conversation, and his fears for his friend were greatly increased in consequence of it. He was becoming alarmed for the safety of the lithe little scout, but there was nothing to be done except to carry out his desires, and in silence he proceeded on his way to the camp.
When the men arrived they found their companions eager listeners to the story they had to tell of the capture of the black horse. Others of the men also were concerned now for the safety of the scout, but against the suggestion that they should go to his relief the strong protests made by the men who had accompanied Carson in the chase at last prevailed, and no one departed from the camp.
Meanwhile, although it was seldom that reference was made to the fear in the heart of every one, the anxiety among the trappers increased as the slow moments passed. When an hour had elapsed the suggestion was renewed by Reuben that the men should go to the aid of their leader. But the suggestion was again refused. Another hour passed, and still there were no signs of the coming of the missing trapper.
A half-hour later, however, Kit Carson was seen approaching the camp, riding his own pony and leading his captive. The black horse was following meekly, his dejected bearing clearly showing the sufferings he had undergone. The scout made no comment when he rode into the camp. He at once quietly dismounted and threw the bridle rein over the head of the pony he had been riding and then turned to his captive.
At first it seemed as if the spirit of the black horse was broken. In a moment, however, when Kit Carson tried to lead forward the nearly exhausted animal, the wild pony reared and with a scream of anger attempted to strike the scout with his forefeet. Carson, however, was too quick, and the attempt of his prisoner to injure him proved futile.
Again the scout pulled upon the halter, although as Reuben watched him he was puzzled to understand how the daring man had succeeded in placing a halter on the head of the powerful animal. The pony this time responded, and although he was apparently unaware of what he was doing, he followed his captor as he led him to a stake which had been securely driven into the ground on the border of the camp. There the captured horse was tied. Once more, however, Kit Carson barely escaped the onrush of the beast as he dashed upon him with wide-open jaws. It was impossible for any one in the camp now to hobble the animal, and for a time he was left to his vain efforts to escape. Desperately the poor beast pulled upon the thongs that held him, but without avail. After a struggle of a few minutes the attempt was abandoned, and for a time it seemed as if the black horse, his spirits drooping and his whole bearing dejected, had at last decided to yield to his fate.
Kit Carson declared that the horse should not be fed or watered throughout the night. When morning came, with some oats in his hat which he was holding in his outstretched hand, the scout again approached the captive. Hunger and thirst by this time had deprived the beast of still more of his fiery energy. He was weak now as well as suffering. Stretching forth his head, he ate a few oats, and then, apparently overcome by his recollection of his humiliation, with a scream of anger he arose upon his hind feet and again endeavoured to crush the scout.