CAMPING WITH COMANCHES 253 



horse was picketed out and I was given a buffalo 

 pony with a gait like a rocking horse. I wanted 

 to stop and shoot the animated trip-hammer that 

 had tortured me so cruelly all night, but I hadn't 

 time. 



As we swept across the prairie at an easy lope, 

 Tavetossa, White Sun, a young Comanche, rode 

 beside me, and with hands that talked told me 

 how to play the game. Even when the herd took 

 fright and every pony was dashing for it at his 

 utmost speed, the youth stayed by me. In my 

 struggles to guide the creature I rode, to dodge 

 mesquite trees, whose out-thrusting branches 

 threatened to tear me from my pony, to avoid 

 prairie dog holes, and follow the game all at the 

 same time, I was falling hopelessly behind. 

 Tavetossa saw my trouble and throwing the rope 

 which served him for a bridle upon his pony's 

 neck motioned to me to do the same. In despair 

 I threw down the reins and put my trust in Prov- 

 idence and the pony. 



Relieved of restraint, the pony flew as if on 

 wings, and as we overtook the herd the young 



