name, never even
stumbled.

In the Black Hills years ago I happened to be one of the inmates of a
small mining-camp. Each night the work-animals, after being fed, were
turned loose in the mountains. As I possessed the only cow-pony in the
outfit, he was fed in the corral, and kept up for the purpose of
rounding up the others. Every morning one of us used to ride him out
after the herd. Often it was necessary to run him at full speed along
the mountain-side, over rocks, boulders, and ledges, across ravines and
gullies. Never but once in three months did he fall.

On the trail, too, they will perform feats little short of marvelous.
Mere steepness does not bother them at all. They sit back almost on
their haunches, bunch their feet together, and slide. I have seen them
go down a hundred feet this way. In rough country they place their
feet accurately and quickly, gauge exactly the proper balance. I have
led my saddle-horse, Bullet, over country where, undoubtedly to his
intense disgust, I myself have fallen a dozen times in the course of a
morning. Bullet had no such troubles. Any of the mountain horses will
hop cheerfully up or down ledges anywhere. They will even walk a log
fifteen or twenty feet above a stream. I have seen the same trick
performed in Barnum's circus as a wonderful feat, accompanied by brass
bands and breathlessness. We accomplished it on our trip with out any
brass bands; I cannot answer for the breathlessness. As for steadiness
of nerve, they will walk serenely on the edge of precipices a man would
hate to look over, and given a palm's breadth for the soles of their
feet, they will get through. Over such a place I should a lot rather
trust Bullet than myself.

In an emergency the Western horse is not apt to lose his head. When a
pack-horse falls down, he lies still without struggle until eased of
his pack and told to get up. If he slips off an edge, he tries to
double his fore legs under him and slide. Should he find himself in a
tight place, he waits patiently for you to help him, and then proceeds
gingerly. A friend of mine rode a horse named Blue. One day, the
trail being slippery with rain, he slid and fell. My friend managed a
successful jump, but Blue tumbled about thirty feet to the bed of the
canon. Fortunately he was not injured. After some difficulty my
friend managed to force his way through the chaparral to where Blue
stood. Then it was fine to see them. My frien