420 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AXD PRAIRIE. 



But the fun of the evening was not yet ended. To the crack 

 of the shot there rose on the next hill the flowing manes and 

 mobile necks of three startled horses ; and in a moment more 

 the whole of the little bunch — five head and a foal — were on 

 the brow, gazing about them in fear and curiosity. (A 

 favourite plan, by the way, amid rough land, is for the horse- 

 seeker to fire a shot from his revolver — whereupon any horses 

 within hearing will certainly peep hurriedly over the peaks.) 

 The bunch was readily recognised. It contained a galloping 

 mare with her first foal. They had already evaded capture for 

 a fortnight ; and it became a point of honour that they should 

 now join the herd at home. Horses are easily stalked — how- 

 ever wild — and the broken ground now favoured close approach. 

 Moreover, once quietly ridden round, they will always submit to 

 inspection — until the time arrives for moving them on. Then 

 may the difficulties — at all events the excitement and the 

 struggle — begin. A mare with a young foal will do all she 

 knows to distance, or double on, her pursuers. She will start 

 at a tangent for the roughest brakes, where she may before 

 have found shelter and evaded pursuit ; and fast as she may 

 stride over rocks and scrub, the little one will keep pace almost 

 under her flank. Away like the Avind, that flings her wild 

 mane in the air, and that waves her long tail level with her 

 back. With a snort of defiance she is fifty yards to the good 

 ere your spurs can go in — while her comrades swing round to 

 her signal and dash off at her heels. Now you must ride and 

 ride at their very tails — for once they get clear of you on this 

 tumbled-up country you will surely never hit quickly the 

 beaten trails by which alone the cattle and horses and deer can 

 travel the bad lands. Now she dashes for the wildest and 

 most dangerously broken ground, wherein a goat only could 

 crawl, and crawl slowly. She must not reach this, or the 

 laugh will be all her's and pursuit soon hopeless. Head her you 

 must, at all hazards. There is just room to pass, just space on 

 the ridge to do it. As you rattle past her the little horse 

 under you catches the infection, and strains every nerve, as an 



