ink I ever saw a man
look so angry and mean. He held a shot-gun in his hand and, presenting
it at me, swore he would kill me if I dared to proceed any further. My
foreman, who knew him well, warned me to be careful; there seemed no
doubt that he meant what he said; he was too mad to dispute with, and
so! well, his bluff, if it were a bluff, carried the day and I ordered
the mares to be turned loose. As it turned out afterwards it was well I
did so, as further legal complications would have resulted. But as I
began to think of and remember the time that had been spent and the
amount of hard work in collecting these horses, I felt rather ashamed of
my action. And yet, can one be expected to practically throw his life
away, not for a principle, but for a few head of young colts not even
his own property? But, as said before, the disputed title influenced me
to some extent; that, and the muzzle of the shot-gun together certainly
did.

A word about mustangs. They were very wary, cunning animals, keen of
scent and sharp of eye. Invariably, when one first sighted them, they
would be one or two miles away, going like the wind, their tails and
manes flying behind them; and be it noted that when walking or standing
these manes as well as tails swept the ground. Few of them were of any
value when captured; many of them were so vicious and full of the devil
generally that you could do nothing with them, and they never seemed to
lose that character. Like the guanaco of South America, the wild
stallion always dungs in one particular spot, near the watering-place,
so that when hunting them we always looked out for and inspected these
little hillocks. It may also be mentioned here that guanacos, like wild
elephants and wild goats, have their dying ground, so to speak, where
immense quantities of their bones are always found. Cattle when about to
die select if possible a bush, tree or rocky place, perhaps for privacy,
quietness, or some other reason unknown to us.

The next and last time we rounded up the stock horses I left the wilder
ones alone, and gave a contract to some professional mustangers to
gather them at so much per head. These men never attempt to run them
down. They "walk" them down. A light wagon, two mules to pull it, lots
of grain, some water and supplies, are what you need. On sighting a band
you simply walk your team after them, walk all day and day after day,
never giving them a rest. Keep their attention occupied a