and it was plain to Cole that he might not be able to get to his distant town as matters stood. After some bickering, in which Cole paid a little cash, the old horse was traded and the mule was hitched beside Mustang. The small cash difference paid to get the old mule was what counted. After the trade was made Mustang’s driver took off the stay-chain from the doubletree and now as the wagon moved along the mule took his share of the load.
Cole, sitting on the seat driving, smoked his pipe constantly, and sometimes a light breeze carried the scent of the smoke to Mustang’s nostrils. The only effect it had on him was that it made him remember when the scent came to him that men were always nearby.
For a long time the only sounds to be heard were those of the wagon wheels as they rolled over a long stretch of ground covered with small pebbles and stones. The old mule plodded along as if he were half asleep but he pulled his share of the load. Mustang kept his eyes wide open, always watching. As he looked forward he saw in the distance, near a dip in the plain, a number of large birds flying slowly in circles above the place. As he helped pull the wagon nearer he saw a dark object in the low place beyond. Mustang did not understand but his driver did. Cole looked at the big birds flying above the place and muttered aloud, “Some feller kept his old horse too long and had to let him go to the buzzards. I’m lucky I traded for this mule. I’ll be able now to get to the town and I’ll get a good trade for this young bay horse. He’ll strike the eye of the cowboys. Some feller can feed him up and make a champion bucker out of him maybe.”
After a long time Cole Hunter saw the western town ahead of him. Mustang saw it too, and he was at once interested. What he wanted was to have all these straps and chains and, especially, the collar on his neck and shoulders taken off. When quite near the town the wagon reached a gentle slope. As they came to the slope the wagon pushed up against Mustang, but the old mule, with long experience, leaned back in the broad breeching of his harness, while he took short, halting steps forward. At the same time Mustang felt the bridle bit in his mouth pulled hard by Cole, who drew back on the lines. Cole also pulled back the iron lever that put the brakes on the iron tires of the hind wheels. This caused a screeching sound as the iron wheels rolled and jerked against the brake, and Mustang was frightened, but the old mule beside him paid no attention, just leaned back in his breeching. Mustang did the same although his breeching tickled him and he had a desire to kick, but the weight of the wagon pressed so hard against him that he could do nothing but step awkwardly along with the mule on the other side of him.
They came down the slope at last and to some level ground on the edge of the town. A little farther on was a big corral in which were horses and close beside this corral was a railroad track. But Mustang did not notice this. And even if he had he would not have known what it was. He would not have known that what were called “horse cars” moved along on these tracks to carry horses like him to the horse markets of the East, where horses were sold to men who would ride them or hitch them up to pull heavy loads in wagons. All that Mustang knew was that he saw many horses in the big corral here, and also many men standing around the corral. He was interested, too, in the many horses he saw beyond the corrals and in the sounds that came to him. But what interested Mustang most were the mounted cowboys he saw riding along the streets of this western town. Two of the cowboys rode leisurely past where he stood hitched to the wagon, but they were busy in conversation and did not notice him. When Mustang saw these men in their wide-brimmed hats he pricked up his ears with interest because they reminded him of Sam McSwain. And now he saw other cowboys riding here and there and he looked intently at them. It seemed to him that Sam might be with them. And if Sam had been with those men who rode nearest, Mustang no doubt would have recognized him and nickered to him. For Mustang had not forgotten. It was merely that he did not know where Sam was.
After Cole had looked ahead for a brief time he drove Mustang and the mule up near the big corral where the men were standing. These men had just bought the horses in the corral and they were talking about the matter of shipping them away. Cole stopped his queer team and told the horse buyers he would like to trade Mustang and the mule for another team of horses. The horse buyers gave only a glance at the old mule hitched up with Mustang. They knew the mule was of no value to them, and they would not want him. But they looked at Mustang with interest. In these days, when shrewd men knew horses, not many questions were asked in a horse trade. All three horse buyers saw instantly that Mustang was an unusually good horse, and after a little dickering they traded two “work” horses for Mustang, and traded even.
Mustang was now unhitched from the wagon. He was tired, hungry and thirsty, but he would break away if he could. The men worked carefully. They got a long rope on his neck and when the harness had been pulled off one of the men started to lead Mustang to the corral gate to put him in with the other horses. When Mustang saw that he was free, except for the man pulling on the rope, he leaped aside swiftly and almost broke the man’s hold on the rope, but the other two men grabbed the rope, and although Mustang leaped and plunged to get away, these strong men dug their boot heels in the ground and held him. When Mustang saw that they could hold him he stopped and, looking at them, snorted. The three men held him and began talking among themselves.
“He’s young and he’s a fighter, ain’t he!”
“You bet he is. He’s half starved, but he’s a fighter. Looks like he’s got race stock in him!”
“That’s so, and he’ll fetch a good price if we’re careful and get him safe on the stock train.”
Mustang stood his ground, his head up, his eyes wide, watching the three men. Slowly one of them took the dangling end of the long rope and tied it around a post at the gate of the corral. The man then opened the gate a little. Mustang couldn’t get loose now unless he broke the rope. One of the men went into the corral and drove all the other horses back, for these horses in the corral had become curious at seeing Mustang and they were crowding close to the gate to look at him. When the horses inside had been driven back the gate was opened wide. Two men got well behind Mustang and one of them threw a rope and made it roll like a wave on the ground toward him. The end of the rope struck Mustang like a small whip. He leaped forward and into the corral, and the gate was quickly shut. With Mustang now inside and still tied to the post, the men approached him carefully. One of them said, “He’s no ordinary stock. He’s got fine blood in him. But he’s a nervous horse, the kind that might fight us unless we’re gentle with him.”
At this moment a man with a load of hay drove up to the corral and, with a pitchfork, began tossing hay into the corral for the horses to eat. There were twenty or more horses in this corral, all colors and different sizes. They rushed for the hay, squealing, and some of them kicked the others when they reached it. Many of them laid back their ears, and with open mouths they drove back the others.
One of the men looked at Mustang, grinned, and said, “Let’s untie the rope on his neck and let him loose with the others. I’ll bet he gets his share of hay!” Very carefully this was done. At once Mustang started toward the hay. A few of the worst fighting horses were eating and holding the others back. Mustang walked rapidly up to them. A big sorrel horse laid back his ears and with gleaming teeth reached for Mustang. Mustang dodged, whirled, and kicked that horse so hard he staggered. And then Mustang started in biting and kicking in such a way that it was no time until he had all the horses standing back. He stood looking at them for an instant, then snorted his contempt. They all understood. Presently Mustang grabbed up a mouthful of hay, then turned and faced them while he chewed rapidly on it.
These men of the West all grinned with admiration. One of them said, “He’s saying to them horses, ‘Going to starve me, are you? Huh! Why, if you do that again I’ll chaw you up and spit you out in little pieces! I won’t have it!’ ”
Mustang now began to eat ravenously of the hay. The other horses moved in a little below him and also began to eat, but while they chewed on their food they
