We soon picked out a horse--a
splendid-lookin' feller, with curved neck, and free gallop, and wide
nostrils. My eye! how he did snort and plunge, when the Mexican threw
the lasso, it went right over his head the first cast, but the wild
horse pulled the rope out o' his grip. `It's all up,' thought I; but
never a bit. The Mexican put spurs to his horse, an' while at full
gallop, made a dive with his body, and actually caught the end o' the
line, as it trailed over the ground, and recovered his seat again. It
was done in a crack; an', I believe, he held on by means of his spurs,
which were big enough, I think, to make wheels for a small carronade.
Takin' a turn o' the line round the horn of his saddle, he reined in a
bit, and then gave the spurs for another spurt, and soon after reined in
again--in fact, he jist played the wild horse like a trout, until he
well-nigh choked him; an', in an hour, or less, he was led steamin', and
startin', and jumpin', into the corral, where the man kept his other
horses."

At this point in the narrative, the cries for music became so deafening,
that the sailor was obliged to pause, to the evident annoyance of the
negro, who seemed intensely interested in what he had heard; and, also,
to the regret of Larry, who had listened eagerly the whole time. In a
few minutes the "music" came in, in the shape of two bald-headed
Frenchmen, a wild-looking bearded German, and several lean men, who
might, as far as appearance went, have belonged to almost any nation;
and who would have, as far as musical ability went, been repudiated by
every nation, except, perhaps, the Chinese. During the quarter of an
hour in which these performers quieted the impatient audience with sweet
sounds, the sailor continued his anecdote.

"Well, you see," said he to the negro, while Larry bent forward to
listen, "the Mexican mounted, and raced and spurred him for about an
hour; but, just at the last, the wild horse gave a tremendous leap and a
plunge, and we noticed the rider fall forward, as if he'd got a sprain.
The Yankee an' one o' the servants ran up, and caught the horse by the
head, but its rider didn't move--he was stone dead, and was held in his
seat by the spurs sticking in the saddle-cloth. The last bound must
have ruptured some blood-vessel inside, for there was no sign of hurt
upon him anywhere."

"You don' say dat?" said the negro, with a look of horror.

"'Deed do I; an' we took the poor feller home