IN THE OLD WEST 343 



fallen from the heights and blocking up the bed 

 of the stream, added to the difficulty, and threat- 

 ened them every instant with destruction. 



Towards sundown they reached a point where 

 the canon opened out into a little shelving glade 

 or prairie, a few hundred yards in extent, the en- 

 trance to which was almost hidden by thicket of 

 dwarf pine and cedar. Here they determined to 

 encamp for the night, in a spot secure from In- 

 dians, and, as they imagined, untrodden by the 

 foot of man. 



What, however, was their astonishment, on 

 breaking through the cedar-covered entrance, to 

 perceive a solitary horse standing motionless in 

 the center of the prairie. Drawing near, they 

 found it to be an old grizzled mustang, or In- 

 dian pony, with cropped ears and ragged tail 

 (well picked by hungry mules), standing doubled 

 up with cold, and at the very last gasp from ex- 

 treme old age and weakness. Its bones were 

 nearly through the stiffened skin, the legs of the 

 animal were gathered under it; whilst its forlorn- 

 looking head and stretched-out neck hung list- 

 lessly downwards, almost overbalancing its totter- 

 ing body. The glazed and sunken eye — the pro- 

 truding and froth-covered tongue — the heaving 

 flank and quivering tail — declared its race was 

 run ; and the driving sleet and snow, and penetrat- 

 ing winter blast, scarce made impression upon its 

 callous and worn-out frame. 



