290 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 22, 1908. 
Wild Horses and the Indians 
By GEO. BIRD GRINNELL 
Concluded from page 249. 
lina could offer, that I suggested that we push 
on to the finca, stating that it was hazardous, 
but I thought the ride could be finished safely 
if speed was made in the forepart of the jour¬ 
ney. 
“I’m willing to try it, but what will we do if 
darkness overtakes us ?” was my companion’s 
reply. 
“Well, we must get past the worst part before 
the dark comes; my horse knows the way and 
we can trust to luck. I’m hungry, and a little 
weary, and I yearn for the fare and soft couch 
of the finca.” 
We urged the horses on through the mud. In 
spite of the fact my companion’s horse was the 
fresher, he lagged behind and I was forced to 
wait for him. Darkness came on. We plodded 
along the steep mountain road. 
Time after time the horses floundered and 
fell on the very brink of the ravine. If ever a 
horse was a friend of man, that I bestrode was 
the one. Though he fell probably a dozen times, 
the game brute managed to maintain an upright 
position. If he had rolled over it would prob¬ 
ably have crushed me. When he rose he would 
wait patiently for me to lift myself from the 
mud and remount. It was so dark that we could 
not see one another as we rode and could ascer¬ 
tain one another’s whereabouts only by calling. 
We could only hope that the horses were suffi¬ 
ciently surefooted not to fall over the edge of 
the road. 
At last we emerged from the thick, suffocating 
forest and it grew lighter. The buildings of Las 
Luces loomed up in the open, and the going from 
there to Carolina was comparatively easy. 
It was after 9 o’clock when, covered with mud, 
we rode up to the house, where Don Alejandro 
was on the point of retiring for the night. Lie 
was so surprised at our advent at first he could 
only swear. Then at last he ejaculated: 
“Well, well! You fellows must be either 
drunk or crazy! I’ve lived here for more than 
twenty years and I never knew anyone to ride 
up that camino in the rainy season after night¬ 
fall. A miracle you got here alive!” 
We had established a precedent in finca life, 
and the supper that followed, with the couches 
at the last, were sufficient reward. 
Anything to break the monotony. When one 
understood it did not surprise that a finquero 
starving for white companionship, when he had a 
guest, would awaken the visitor at midnight or 
4 A. M. to have a chat with him, a bite 
to eat. 
An objectionable feature of life on the finca 
was the parrots. Early each morning they made 
known their arrival from the marshy jungles 
where they roosted at night by flying overhead, 
screaming and squalling and quarreling among 
themselves. These parrots are wary birds, and 
when they approached Carolina they flew high, in 
their awkward fashion, keeping out of gunshot. 
Lighting in the tall forest trees left standing 
among the coffee they spent the day in flitting 
about from tree to tree like green pigeons about 
a dovecote, or climbing in their ungainly fashion 
up and down the smooth, white tree trunks, for 
what purposes only they themselves could reveal. 
They were the feathered monkeys of the finca. 
The true simians were more considerate and 
confined themselves strictly to the lowland jun¬ 
gles, where they were seen in plenty during 
hunting trips. 
C ERTAIN men devoted much of their time 
to the capture of horses. They might be 
called professional horse catchers. Such 
men owned especially good horses, fast and long- 
winded, and were often very successful. In some 
cases, like that of Walking Coyote and other 
members of the Yellow Wolf and Little Wolf 
family—who lived seventy years ago—these horse 
catchers were sometimes followed up by young 
or old assistants who carried extra poles with 
ropes tied to them in the proper way, and when 
the horse-catcher had passed the noose over 
the head of a horse and thrown away his pole, 
the assistant rode up beside him, handed him 
another pole and took the rope which held the 
horse that he had just captured. Besides the 
rope on the pole, Walking Coyote frequently 
carried one or two extra ropes not tied to a 
pole, but coiled and tucked under his belt. An 
occasion would sometimes arise where he 
could throw one of these ropes over an animal, 
without the use of a pole. 
It once happened that, after he had caught a 
horse and dropped his pole, a long trailing loop 
of rope hung between himself and the captured 
horse, and that this rope got around the hind¬ 
leg of Walking Coyote’s horse, so that he was 
obliged to drop the rope with which he had 
caught the horse to avoid having it draw up 
on his own horse’s leg and throw the animal 
down. He then took from his belt one of his 
extra ropes and threw it over the captured 
horse’s head and held it. 
It occasionally happened that a man who had 
been unable to overtake a wild horse if behind 
a successful horse catcher, might run up beside 
him and pass to him his own pole, taking the 
horse catcher’s rope. If the horse catcher 
captured another horse with the pole given him 
by the unsuccessful man, the animal captured 
with this pole belonged to the man who had 
handed him the pole. 
It was important that the noose of the rope 
should be so tied to the pole, that a very slight 
pull would free it. While very slender strings 
of buckskin were often used, yet the best ma¬ 
terial for these strings was little strips of calico, 
which would break on the slightest pull. 
Often the horse catchers took with them on 
their expeditions a number of gentle mares. 
These were for use in the first handling of the 
wild horses after they had been captured. Some 
of these mares were taken out with the horse- 
runners, and when a wild horse was captured, 
it was thrown down and tied; 2 head-stall was 
put on it, a rope tied about its neck in such a 
manner that it would not draw up on the neck 
and choke the captive, and this rope was 
passed through the head-stall. A gentle mare 
was then brought up. A knot was tied in her 
tail and the rope leading from the wild horse’s 
head was then firmly tied about the mare’s tail, 
leaving three or four feet of space between the 
tail and the horse’s head. Then the mare’s 
tail was bent around to one side, the rope 
passed along her hip and side to the large part 
of the neck, where it was tied about the mare’s 
neck by a knot that would not draw up, and 
the loop which passed about her neck was tied; 
to her mane just in front of the withers by a! 
buckskin string, so that under no circumstances 
could it slip forward on the neck. When the 
wild horse got to its feet, it struggled and pulled 
back a good deal for a few moments, but 
presently became quiet and thereafter followed 
the mare without trouble. In the course of 
three of four days, the captive had become at¬ 
tached to the mare, and when turned loose at 
the end of this time would follow her about 
everywhere. She could then be used to tame 
another horse, and sometimes a mare would 
have ten or a dozen young horses following her 
about. These young horses were broken with 
little difficulty. 
While the wild horse was tailed to a mare, 
the owner or some one of his young relations 
was frequently about it, handling it, petting it 
and gentling it, so that it soon became used to 
the sight, smell and touch of a human being.: 
After this point had been reached, a young 
man might jump on its back and immediately 
jump off again, and after this had been done a 
few times, he’would very likely jump on its 
back and sit there, while the mare was led or 
ridden around for a time. In this way the horse 
became tamed and the breaking it to be a usefu 
riding animal was a mere matter of practice. 
The same method of tying together ( Inoo'ihi 
in Cheyenne, tying together), or, as it is termed 
by the whites, tailing a horse, was adopted when 
people bought horses out of a herd to take 
away with them, or even when one Indian 
presented a horse to another. If such a horse 
was driven to the new owner’s herd and ther 
turned loose, it would at once return to the herd 
with which it had been accustomed to range 
but if tailed to a mare in the new herd, it soor 
attached itself to that mare and remained with 
her. 
It was usually necessary to short-hobble a 
mare to which a new horse had been tailed tc 
prevent the horse from driving her in the direc¬ 
tion that it wanted to go. 
Hobbling a horse, though it fetters its move¬ 
ments. does not prevent its traveling off in any 
direction, though its progress will be slow 
compared to that of a free horse. 
The same result might be obtained by picket 
ing the mare, but there was always danger thal 
the two horses would become entangled in the 
rope. 
Occasionally it would happen that a couple 
of men off by themselves were obliged to leave 
their horses for a considerable time. Insteac 
of picketing them—which was often impractica 
ble for a variety of reasons, and, if the absenc« 
was to be long, would result in starvation for th* 
horses—they frequently tailed their horses to 
gether; that is to say, they tailed one to the 
other and then, turning about the lead horse; 
tailed it to the tail of the second horse. Ir 
this way the horses could move about onb 
slowly and in a series of short circles, but could 
not travel in a direct line. They could, how 
