the last of the plainsmen-第7章

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d　of　horsemanship。

The　mount　Frank　trotted　out　of　the　corral　for　me　was　a　pure　white；　beautiful　mustang；　nervous；　sensitive；　quivering。　I　watched　Frank　put　on　the　saddle；　and　when　he　called　me　I　did　not　fail　to　catch　a　covert　twinkle　in　his　merry　brown　eyes。　Looking　away　toward　Buckskin　Mountain；　which　was　coincidentally　in　the　direction　of　home；　I　said　to　myself：　〃This　may　be　where　you　get　on；　but　most　certainly　it　is　where　you　get　off！〃

Jones　was　already　riding　far　beyond　the　corral；　as　I　could　see　by　a　cloud　of　dust；　and　I　set　off　after　him；　with　the　painful　consciousness　that　I　must　have　looked　to　Frank　and　Jim　much　as　Central　Park　equestrians　had　often　looked　to　me。　Frank　shouted　after　me　that　he　would　catch　up　with　us　out　on　the　range。　I　was　not　in　any　great　hurry　to　overtake　Jones；　but　evidently　my　horse's　inclinations　differed　from　mine；　at　any　rate；　he　made　the　dust　fly；　and　jumped　the　little　sage　bushes。

Jones；　who　had　tarried　to　inspect　one　of　the　poolsformed　of　running　water　from　the　corralsgreeted　me　as　I　came　up　with　this　cheerful　observation。

〃What　in　thunder　did　Frank　give　you　that　white　nag　for？　The　buffalo　hate　white　horsesanything　white。　They're　liable　to　stampede　off　the　range；　or　chase　you　into　the　canyon。〃

I　replied　grimly　that；　as　it　was　certain　something　was　going　to　happen；　the　particular　circumstance　might　as　well　come　off　quickly。

We　rode　over　the　rolling　plain　with　a　cool；　bracing　breeze　in　our　faces。　The　sky　was　dull　and　mottled　with　a　beautiful　cloud　effect　that　presaged　wind。　As　we　trotted　along　Jones　pointed　out　to　me　and　descanted　upon　the　nutritive　value　of　three　different　kinds　of　grass；　one　of　which　he　called　the　Buffalo　Pea；　noteworthy　for　a　beautiful　blue　blossom。　Soon　we　passed　out　of　sight　of　the　cabin；　and　could　see　only　the　billowy　plain；　the　red　tips　of　the　stony　wall；　and　the　black…fringed　crest　of　Buckskin。　After　riding　a　while　we　made　out　some　cattle；　a　few　of　which　were　on　the　range；　browsing　in　the　lee　of　a　ridge。　No　sooner　had　I　marked　them　than　Jones　let　out　another　Comanche　yell。

〃Wolf！〃　he　yelled；　and　spurring　his　big　bay；　he　was　off　like　the　wind。

A　single　glance　showed　me　several　cows　running　as　if　bewildered；　and　near　them　a　big　white　wolf　pulling　down　a　calf。　Another　white　wolf　stood　not　far　off。　My　horse　jumped　as　if　he　had　been　shot；　and　the　realization　darted　upon　me　that　here　was　where　the　certain　something　began。　Spotthe　mustang　had　one　black　spot　in　his　pure　whitesnorted　like　I　imagined　a　blooded　horse　might；　under　dire　insult。　Jones's　bay　had　gotten　about　a　hundred　paces　the　start。　I　lived　to　learn　that　Spot　hated　to　be　left　behind；　moreover；　he　would　not　be　left　behind；　he　was　the　swiftest　horse　on　the　range；　and　proud　of　the　distinction。　I　cast　one　unmentionable　word　on　the　breeze　toward　the　cabin　and　Frank；　then　put　mind　and　muscle　to　the　sore　task　of　remaining　with　Spot。　Jones　was　born　on　a　saddle；　and　had　been　taking　his　meals　in　a　saddle　for　about　sixty…three　years；　and　the　bay　horse　could　run。　Run　is　not　a　felicitous　wordhe　flew。　And　I　was　rendered　mentally　deranged　for　the　moment　to　see　that　hundred　paces　between　the　bay　and　Spot　materially　lessen　at　every　jump。　Spot　lengthened　out；　seemed　to　go　down　near　the　ground；　and　cut　the　air　like　a　high…geared　auto。　If　I　had　not　heard　the　fast　rhythmic　beat　of　his　hoofs；　and　had　not　bounced　high　into　the　air　at　every　jump；　I　would　have　been　sure　I　was　riding　a　bird。　I　tried　to　stop　him。　As　well　might　I　have　tried　to　pull　in　the　Lusitania　with　a　thread。　Spot　was　out　to　overhaul　that　bay；　and　in　spite　of　me；　he　was　doing　it。　The　wind　rushed　into　my　face　and　sang　in　my　ears。　Jones　seemed　the　nucleus　of　a　sort　of　haze；　and　it　grew　larger　and　larger。　Presently　he　became　clearly　defined　in　my　sight；　the　violent　commotion　under　me　subsided；　I　once　more　felt　the　saddle；　and　then　I　realized　that　Spot　had　been　content　to　stop　alongside　of　Jones；　tossing　his　head　and　champing　his　bit。

〃Well；　by　George！　I　didn't　know　you　were　in　the　stretch；〃　cried　my　companion。　〃That　was　a　fine　little　brush。　We　must　have　come　several　miles。　I'd　have　killed　those　wolves　if　I'd　brought　a　gun。　The　big　one　that　had　the　calf　was　a　bold　brute。　He　never　let　go　until　I　was　within　fifty　feet　of　him。　Then　I　almost　rode　him　down。　I　don't　think　the　calf　was　much　hurt。　But　those　blood…thirsty　devils　will　return；　and　like　as　not　get　the　calf。　That's　the　worst　of　cattle　raising。　Now；　take　the　buffalo。　Do　you　suppose　those　wolves　could　have　gotten　a　buffalo　calf　out　from　under　the　mother？　Never。　Neither　could　a　whole　band　of　wolves。　Buffalo　stick　close　together；　and　the　little　ones　do　not　stray。　When　danger　threatens；　the　herd　closes　in　and　faces　it　and　fights。　That　is　what　is　grand　about　the　buffalo　and　what　made　them　once　roam　the　prairies　in　countless；　endless　droves。〃

From　the　highest　elevation　in　that　part　of　the　range　we　viewed　the　surrounding　ridges；　flats　and　hollows；　searching　for　the　buffalo。　At　length　we　spied　a　cloud　of　dust　rising　from　behind　an　undulating　mound；　then　big　black　dots　hove　in　sight。

〃Frank　has　rounded　up　the　herd；　and　is　driving　it　this　way。　We'll　wait；〃　said　Jones。

Though　the　buffalo　appeared　to　be　moving　fast；　a　long　time　elapsed　before　they　reached　the　foot　of　our　outlook。　They　lumbered　along　in　a　compact　mass；　so　dense　that　I　could　not　count　them；　but　I　estimated　the　number　at　seventy…five。　Frank　was　riding　zigzag　behind　them；　swinging　his　lariat　and　yelling。　When　he　espied　us　he　reined　in　his　horse　and　waited。　Then　the　herd　slowed　down；　halted　and　began　browsing。

〃Look　at　the　cattalo　calves；〃　cried　Jones；　in　ecstatic　tones。　〃See　how　shy　they　are；　how　close　they　stick　to　their　mothers。〃

The　little　dark…brown　fellows　were　plainly　frightened。　I　made　several　unsuccessful　attempts　to　photograph　them；　and　gave　it　up　when　Jones　told　me　not　to　ride　too　close　and　that　it　would　be　better　to　wait　till　we　had　them　in　the　corral。

He　took　my　camera　and　instructed　me　to　go　on　ahead；　in　the　rear　of　the　herd。　I　heard　the　click　of　the　instrument　as　he　snapped　a　picture；　and　then　suddenly　heard　him　shout　in　alarm：　〃Look　out！　look　out！　pull　your　horse！〃

Thundering　hoof…beats　pounding　the　earth　accompanied　his　words。　I　saw　a　big　bull；　with　head　down；　tail　raised；　charging　my　horse。　He　answered　Frank's　yell　of　command　with　a　furious　grunt。　I　was　paralyzed　at　the　wonderfully　swift　action　of　the　shaggy　brute；　and　I　sat　helpless。　Spot　wheeled　as　if　he　were　on　a　pivot　and　plunged　out　of　the　way　with　a　celerity　that　was　astounding。　The　buffalo　stopped；　pawed　the　ground；　and　angrily　tossed　his　huge　head。　Frank　rode　up　to　him；　yelled；　and　struck　him　with　the　lariat；　whereupon　he　gave　another　toss　of　his　horns；　and　then　returned　to　the　herd。

〃It　was　that　darned　white　nag；〃　said　Jones。　〃Frank；　it　was　wrong　to　put　an　inexperienced　man　on　Spot。　For　that　matter；　the　horse　should　never　be　allowed　to　go　near　the　buffalo。〃

〃Spot　knows　the　buffs；　they'd　never　get　to　him；〃　replied　Frank。　But　the　usual　spirit　was　absent　from　his　voice；　and　he　glanced　at　me　soberly。　I　knew　I　had　turned　white；　for　I　felt　the　peculiar　cold　sensation　on　my　face。

〃Now；　look　at　that；　will　you？〃　cried　Jones。　〃I　don't　like　the　looks　of　that。〃

He　pointed　to　the　herd。　They　stopped　browsing；　and　were　uneasily　shifting　to　and　fro。　The　bull　lifted　his　head；　the　others　slowly　grouped　together。

〃Storm！　Sandstorm！〃　exclaimed　Jones；　pointing　desert…ward。　Dark　yellow　clouds　like　smoke　were　rolling；　sweeping；　bearing　down　upon　us。　They　expanded；　blossoming　out　like　gigantic　roses；　and　whirled　and　merged　into　one　another；　all　the　time　rolling　on　and　blotting　out　the　light。

〃We've　got　to　run。　That　storm　may　last　two　days；〃　yelled　Frank　to　me。　〃We've　had　some　bad　ones　lately。　Give　your　horse　free　rein；　and　cover　your　face。〃

A　roar；　resembling　an　approaching　storm　at　sea；　came　on　puffs　of　wind；　as　the　horses　got　into　their　stride。　Long　streaks　of　dust　whipped　up　in　different　places；　the　silver…white　grass　bent　to　the　ground；　round　bunches　of　sage　went　rolling　before　us。　The　puffs　grew　longer；　steadier；　harder。　Then　a　shrieking　blast　howled　on　our　trail；　seeming　to　swoop　down　on　us　with　a　yellow；　blinding　pall。　I　shut　my　eyes　and　covered　my　face