Rensselaer Union, Volume 10, Number 29, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 April 1878 — Hunting Wild Horses. [ARTICLE]

Hunting Wild Horses.

The wild horse can run away from a man; but this protection fails at times. The horse-catchers—or “ vaqueros,” as they are called —are famous riders, and to see them captures wild mustang is better than to go to a circus. The vaquero puts a Spanish saddle on a tame horse and starts out to see what her can find. In front,, oh the high pommel of the saddle, he hangs in large coils a leather rope, about a hundred feet long, and called a lasso. It is made of strips of raw-hide, braided by hand inter a araooth, hard and very

pretty rope. One end ia secured to the saddle, and the other end has a slipknot making a sliding noose. The vaquero has not long to wait, for there are droves of horses cantering or walking about over the swells and hollows of the prairie, with here and there a smaller group looking on, or watching a battle between two horses who wish to be captains of their bands or companies. Presently, there Is a strange sound of tramping hoofs, like the sound of a squadron of cavalry, except that it has a grand, wild rush and swing such as no cavalry ever had, and a cloud of dark heads rises over a swell in the land. The leader sees the vaquero, and he halts suddenly, and the others pull up in a confused crowd, and toss their heads, and sniff the air, as if they scented danger near. The leader does not like the looks of things, and turns and slowly canters away, followed by all tho rest, tramping in confusion through the yellow grass and wild barley. Presently they become frightened, and away they fly in a dusty throng. Tho vaquero’s horse seems to think his chance has come, and he pricks up his ears, and is eager for the glorious fun of a dash after the mustangs. Away they go pell-mell, in a panic, and the tamo horse galloping swiftly after them. Down they tumble—some knocked over in the confusion, snorting and flinging great flecks of foam from their dilated nostrils, trampling over each other in mad haste, each foi himself, and the American horse sweeping after them. Now the vaquero stands up in his saddle, and the lasso swings round and round in a circle over his head. Swish! It sings through the air with a whirring sound, and opens out in great rings, while the loop spreads wider and wider, and at last drops plump over tde head of a mustang. The vaquero’s horse pulls up with a sudden halt, and sinks back on bis haunches, and braces his f&re feet out in front. Ah! How the dust flies! Tho mustang is fast, held by the slip-knot, and ho rears up and plunges in wild and frantic terror. The rope strains terribly, but the vaquero watches his chances, and takes in the rope every time it slackens. It is of no use! The poor mustang is hard and fast. Perhaps another rider comes up and flings another lasso over his head. Then they ride round him, and the mustang is twisted and tangled in the ropes till he can hardlv move. He falls, and rolls, and kicks furiously, and all in vain. Panting, exhausted and conquered, he at last submits to his fate. His free days are over, and he seems to know it. A few more struggles, and he recognizes that man is his master, and, perhaps, in one or two days he submits to a bit in his mouth, and becomes a tame horse for the rest of his life. If, by any chance, he escapes before he is broken in, and runs away to join his wild companions, he seems never to forget that terrible lasso, and if he sees the vaquero again, he will stand, trembling and frightened, too much terrified to even run away.— Charles Barnard , in St. Nicholas for April.