It is our custom there also, when a horse-trade takes place at the house, to give the douceur, not to the purchaser himself, but to one of the fair members of his family. May I have your permission to introduce this fashion into the settlements of Texas?”
“Oh, certainly, Mr Gerald!” replied the planter, “as you please about that.”
“This mustang is my luckpenny; and if Miss Poindexter will condescend to accept of it, I shall feel more than repaid for the three days’ chase which the creature has cost me.”
“I accept your gift, sir; and with gratitude,” responded the young Creole – stepping freely forth as she spoke. “But I have a fancy,” she continued, pointing to the mustang – at the same time that her eye rested on the countenance of the mustanger—”a fancy that your captive is not yet tamed? She may yet kick against the traces, if she find the harness not to her liking; and then what am I to do – poor I?”
“True, Maurice!” said the major, widely mistaken as to the meaning of the mysterious speech, and addressing the only man on the ground who could possibly have comprehended it; “Miss Poindexter speaks very sensibly. That mustang has not been tamed yet – any one may see it. Come, my good fellow! give her the lesson. She looks as though she would put your skill to the test.”
“You are right, major: she does!” replied the mustanger, with a quick glance, directed not towards the captive quadruped, but to the young Creole.
It was a challenge to skill – to equestrian prowess[21]—and he proclaimed his acceptance of it by leaping lightly out of his saddle, resigning his own steed to Zeb Stump, and exclusively giving his attention to the captive.
It was the first time the wild mare had ever been mounted by man. With equine instinct, she reared upon her hind legs, for some seconds balancing her body in an erect position. Twice or three times the mustang tried to throw off her rider, but the endeavours were foiled by the skill of the mustanger; and then, as if conscious that such efforts were idle, the enraged animal sprang away from the spot and entered upon a gallop.
Conjectures that the mustanger might be killed, or, at the least, badly “crippled,” were freely ventured during his absence; and there was one who wished it so. But there was also one upon whom such an event would have produced a painful impression – almost as painful as if her own life depended upon his safe return.
Soon Maurice the mustanger came riding back across the plain, with the wild mare between his legs – no more wild – no longer desiring to destroy him.
“Miss Poindexter!” said the mustanger, gliding to the ground, “may I ask you to step up to her, throw this lazo over her neck, and lead her to the stable? By so doing, she will regard you as her tamer; and ever after submit to your will.”
Without a moment’s hesitation – without the slightest show of fear – Louise stepped forth from the aristocratic circle; as instructed, took hold of the horsehair rope and whisked it across the neck of the tamed mustang.
1) What was Louise preparing for?
2) What news did Zeb Stump bring?
3) Read this extract again:
Conjectures that the mustanger might be killed, or, at the least, badly “crippled,” were freely ventured during his absence; and there was one who wished it so. But there was also one upon whom such an event would have produced a painful impression – almost as painful as if her own life depended upon his safe return.
Who are these two?
4) Did Maurice sell the spotted mustang? What did he do with it?
Chapter Five
The first rays of light, saluting the flag of Fort Inge, fell upon a small waggon that stood in front of the “officers’ quarters”. A party of somewhat different appearance commenced assembling on the parade-ground. They were preparing for a picnic. Most, if not all, who had figured at Poindexter’s dinner party, were soon upon the ground.
The planter himself was present; as also his son Henry, his nephew Cassius Calhoun, and his daughter Louise – the young lady mounted upon the spotted mustang.
The affair was a reciprocal treat – a simple return of hospitality; the major and his officers being the hosts, the planter and his friends the invited guests. The entertainment about to be provided was equally appropriate to the time and place. The guests of the cantonment were to be gratified by witnessing a spectacle – a chase of wild steeds! The arena of the sport could only be upon the wild-horse prairies – some twenty miles to the southward of Fort Inge.
The party was provided with a guide – a horseman completely costumed and equipped, mounted upon a splendid steed.
“Come, Maurice!” cried the major, on seeing that all had assembled, “we’re ready to be conducted to the game. Ladies and gentlemen! this young fellow is thoroughly acquainted with the haunts and habits of the wild horses. If there’s a man in Texas, who can show us how to hunt them, it is Maurice the mustanger.”
“To the saddle!” was the thought upon every mind, and the cry upon every tongue when a drove of wild mares was seen in the distance. Before a hundred could have been deliberately counted, every one, ladies and gentlemen alike, was in the stirrup.
By this time the wild mares appeared coming over the crest of the ridge. They were going at mad gallop, as if fleeing from a pursuer – some dreaded creature that was causing them to snort! They were chased by donkey, almost as large as any of the mustangs.
“I must stop him!” exclaimed Maurice, “or the mares will run on till the end of daylight.”
Half a dozen springs of the blood bay, guided in a diagonal direction, brought his rider within casting distance; and like a flash of lightning, the loop of the lazo was seen descending over the long ears. Then the animal was seen to rise erect on its hind legs, and fall heavily backward upon the grass.
The incident caused a postponement of the chase. All awaited the action of the guide, when he suddenly sprang to his saddle with a quickness that betokened some new cause of excitement.
The cause for the eccentric change of tactics was that Louise Poindexter, mounted on the spotted mustang, had suddenly separated from the company, and was galloping off after the wild mares!
That unexpected start could scarcely be an intention – except on the part of the spotted mustang? Maurice had recognised the drove, as the same from which he had himself captured it: and, no doubt, with the design of rejoining its old associates, it was running away with its rider!
Stirred by gallantry, half the field spurred off in pursuit. But few, if any, of the gentlemen felt actual alarm. All knew that Louise Poindexter was a splendid equestrian. There was one who did not entertain this confident view. It was he who had been the first to show anxiety – the mustanger himself.
The sun, looking down from the zenith, gave light to a singular tableau. A herd of wild mares going at reckless speed across the prairie; one of their own kind, with a lady upon its back, following about four hundred yards behind; at a like distance after the lady, a steed of red bay colour, bestridden by the mustanger, and apparently intent upon overtaking her; still further to the rear a string of mounted men.
In twenty minutes the herd gained distance upon the spotted mustang; the mustang upon the blood bay; and the blood
equestrian prowess – мастерство наездника
