f, with Crockett at his side, took the lead, and off
the whole band went, scouring over the pathless prairie at a rapid
speed. Several of the band were squaws. They were the trumpeters. They
made the prairie echo with their bugle-blasts, or, as Crockett
irreverently, but perhaps more correctly says, "The old squaws, at the
head of the troop, were braying like young jackasses the whole way."

After thus riding over the green and treeless expanse for about three
hours, they came upon a drove of wild horses, quietly pasturing on the
rich herbage. One of the Indians immediately prepared his lasso, and
darted out toward the herd to make a capture. The horses did not seem
to be alarmed by his approach, but when he got pretty nigh them they
began to circle around him, keeping at a cautious distance, with their
heads elevated and with loud neighings. They then, following the
leadership of a splendid stallion, set off on a brisk canter, and soon
disappeared beyond the undulations of the prairie.

One of the mustangs remained quietly grazing. The Indian rode to within
a few yards of him, and very skilfully threw his lasso. The mustang
seemed to be upon the watch, for he adroitly dodged his head between
his forefeet and thus escaped the fatal noose. The Indian rode up to
him, and the horse patiently submitted to be bridled and thus secured.

"When I approached," writes Crockett, "I immediately recognized, in the
captive, the pestilent little animal that had shammed sickness and
escaped from me the day before. And when he caught my eye he cast down
his head and looked rather sheepish, as if he were sensible and ashamed
of the dirty trick he had played me. I expressed my astonishment, to
the Indian chief, at the mustang's allowing himself to be captured
without any effort to escape. He told me that they were generally
hurled to the ground with such violence, when first taken with the
lasso, that they remembered it ever after; and that the sight of the
lasso will subdue them to submission, though they may have run wild for
years."

All the day long, Crockett, with his convoy of friendly savages,
travelled over the beautiful prairie. Toward evening they came across a
drove of fat buffaloes grazing in the richest of earthly pastures. It
was a beautiful sight to witness the skill with which the Indians
pursued and hunted down the noble game. Crockett was quite charmed with
the spectacle. It is said that the Comanche Indians are the f