The Last of the Plainsmen

y dusty trail and sandy wash, the small, oval, sharp

t had been polished by wind and water. No weathered heaps of shale, no crumbled piles of stone obstructed its level floor. And, softly toning its dr

by our intense interest in the famous mustang, and ruffled slightly by Jones's manifest surprise and contempt that no one had captured him, Stewart had volunteered to guide us. "Never knowed him to run in thi

e suddenly upon the blind, box-like head of the canyon. Stewart knew the lay of the ridges and run of the canyons as well as any man could know a country where, seemingly, ev

parently closed in on us, so camp was made for the night. The horses were staked out, and supper made re

tone, opening into another canyon. Above us the sky seemed a winding, flowing stream of blue. The walls were so close in places that a horse with pack would have been blocked, and a rider had to pul

an' nobody knows what he's goin

an' drive 'em up. I can't miss 'em, fer Kanab Canyon is impassable down a little ways. The mustangs will hev to run this way. So all you need do is go below the break, where I climb out, an' wa

blankets and a knapsack of food,

t became crooked as a rail fence, narrower, higher, rugged and broken. Pinnacled cliffs, cra

ry for the ultimate success of our venture-which was simply to see the White Mustang, and if good fortune attended us, to snap some photographs of this wild king of

d out. How a horse could have climbed that streaky white slide was a mystery. Jones's instructions to t

ch of his attention, the dry ditch ran along the cliff wall about fifty feet out; between it and the wall was good level ground, on the other side huge rocks and shale made it hummocky, practically impassable for a horse. It was plain the mustangs, on their way up, would choose the inside

them till they're right on them. Then you'll see a sight and have a chance for a great picture. They will halt; the stallion will prance, whistle and snort for a

in Big Horn is the only four-footed beast," he said, "that has a better eye than a wild horse. A cougar has an eye, too; he's used to lying high up

re too hot to touch; flies buzzed behind our ears; taran

lem of water supply, for he had found a little spring trickling from a cliff, which, by ski

mustangs might try to slip by our fire in the night and we must keep a

minably long, deadening to the keenest interest-passed, and still no mustangs came.

uscles and the long hours of wait-wait-wait, I was ashamed to complain, for there sat the old man, still and silent. I routed out a hairy tarantula from under a stone and teased him into a frenzy with my stick, and tried to get up a fight between him and a scallop-backed horned-toad that blinked wonderingly at me. Then I espied a green lizard on a stone. The beautiful reptile was about a foot in length, bright green, dotted with red,

His neck was stretched, his eyes were

ness, I strained my hearing. I c

es. I followed his advice, and detecte

ing, sure as you're b

oud of dust!" cried

. A white flash appeared, a line of bobbing black objects, and more dust; then with a sharp pounding o

Jones. "How they move! yet that white fellow isn't half-stretched out.

anyon fairly ring. The white stallion plunged back, and his band closed in behind him. He had seen our saddle horses. Then trembling, whinnying, and with arched neck and high-poised head, bespeaking his mettle,

d upon the stone, fired his pistol and roared with all his strength. Taking his cue, I did

d our plunging horses, he shouted: "Mount, and hold this passage. Keep close in by that big stone

him in hard, for he was eager to run. At the cliff wall I was at som

y intended to hide. Presently successive yells and shots from our comrades blended in a roar which the narrow box-canyon augmented and echoed from wall to wall. High

a circle and had left himself free in the center. It was

must pass near the stone. Thundering, crashing, the horses came on. Away bey

row passage, screaming at the top of my v

now be balked, and he spurred his bay directly in their path.

nes. Danger threatened and passed me almost before I was aware of it. Out of the dust a mass of tossing manes, foam-flecked black horses, wild eyes and lifting hoofs rushed at me. Satan, with a presence of mind that shame

picture he presented! How he did run! With all that, the White Mustang made him look dingy and slow. Nevertheless, it was a critical time in the wild career of that king of horses. He had been penned in a space two hundred by five hundred yards, half of which was separated from him by a wide ditch, a yawning chasm that he had refused, and behind him, alway

nd Jim let out strings of yells and volleys. The chase was narrowing down. Trapped, the White Mustang King had no chance. What a grand spirit he showed! Frenzied as I was with excitement, the thought occurred to me that this was an unfair battl

e, powerful with a note of triumph, be

ate by the closing in, he circled round nearer to me. Fire shone in his wild eyes. The wily Jones

fort. Straight for the wash at the upper end he pointed his racy, spirited head, and his white legs stretched far apart, twinkled and stretched aga

ed a foot from his course. Jones might have headed him, but manifestly he wanted to ride with

ringed his head. Out it shot, lengthened like a yellow, st

r, sailed into the air, up and up, and over the wide wash like a white str

g down on his haunches, just

ed me, in pursuit of the thrilling chase, all t

from his face, calmly coiled

sure. Now what I thought my strong point was my weak poin