Part 8 (1/2)
Chapter XI
The next morning when Star, with his mother and the Old White Horse, had found a nice place to graze near the other ponies, the Big Gray Horse that Star had noticed the previous night joined them, and the Old White Horse hastened to rub noses with him.
Star watched curiously, then edged cautiously toward them. His nose twitched, for Star was not quite sure whether he had better bite the Big Gray Horse or not. The stranger was so big and was certainly very handsome. He had a beautiful long silver tail and a heavy silver mane.
His ears were very small and tapered to delicate points, his forehead was broad, and his eyes unusually large and bright. His neck arched proudly and when he moved every muscle beneath his glistening dappled skin told how powerful he was. Star reached him, and as they faced each other, the Big Gray Horse lifted a front hoof and pawed the ground lightly.
The Old White Horse watched him respectfully, and Running Deer joined the group, so that the four of them stood with their noses almost touching.
”Who are you?” asked Running Deer, when the Big Gray Horse showed plainly that he wanted to be friends.
”I am the horse of a general,” was the proud answer.
”What is a general?” Star hastened to inquire, and the Big Gray Horse looked at him in surprise.
”A general is a great soldier who commands many men,” he said. ”General Mackenzie owns me, but I was confused by the noise and the darkness and thought that I was running with our troop horses. When I learned that I was among the Indian ponies it was too late for me to escape, for the Comanches chased me back into their own herd each time I tried to get away.”
”I was confused, but not afraid,” the Old White Horse explained. ”I have been so many years a troop horse that I am not a coward in a fight. You believe that, don't you?” He looked anxiously at the Big Gray Horse.
”Yes,” it answered. ”Neither a man nor a horse that has grown old in the service turns coward when he grows old. Sometimes we horses run just because other horses are running; sometimes we misunderstand our orders and run wild. That was how many horses broke loose when the Indian boys. .h.i.t us over the heads and backs with those bits of buffalo hide. When some picket-ropes broke, the rest of us thought we would be left behind, so we all struggled until we were free. Then I ran, guided by the sound of other hoofs in the darkness, and not waiting to know whether those around me were troop horses or Comanche ponies. I thought I was doing what was right and best.”
”And then what happened?” Star questioned eagerly.
”The soldiers fired their guns, and many tried to catch the running horses which were dragging long ropes. The Comanches were all around in the darkness. Then all I really knew after that was that a lot of us were among the Comanche ponies and the warriors were urging us on. It was dawn when we halted, and the soldiers were nowhere to be seen.”
”Nearly all of the White Troop horses are with us,” the Old White Horse spoke.
Star lifted his head and glanced over the peacefully grazing herd, where a large number of white animals were mixed among the Comanche ponies.
They were easily picked out, not only because of their colour, but also because they were much larger than the Indian ponies.
”Your fighting men cannot follow us,” bragged Star, ”for they have no ponies now.”
”You are wrong,” replied the Big Gray Horse. ”There are hundreds more horses, hundreds more soldiers who will follow the Comanches. The white men are like the blades of gra.s.s, the stars in the sky, or the leaves of the trees in a great forest. No one can count them. Others will join our masters and keep on the trail until the Indians are all conquered. I know what I say, for I have listened to my General and all his officers talking while they rode together.”
”Why do they wish to conquer us?” demanded Star angrily. ”The land, the gra.s.s, the rivers belong to us! Why do the white men come out of far places to take these things away from us?”
”I am only a horse,” the other replied. ”How can I tell? I only know that my General holds the rein that guides me, and I love and obey him.
Sometimes while he rides slowly, he and the other officers talk together. Then we, their horses, listen. So we learn much, but there are many things none of us understand.”
”Have you, too, heard them talk?” Running Deer questioned the Old White Horse which had kept silent all this time.
”I do not belong to an officer,” he said. ”I am only a troop horse. A soldier rides me and we must follow the officers. My rider is an old soldier. I am a very old troop horse. Our duty is to obey, not ask questions, nor reason. Whether we are on parade or fighting, all I have to remember is to mind the reins quickly, to listen sharply for the bugle calls, and to keep my eyes fixed on the little pointed flag of our troop. For that is the troop guidon. Where it leads, we follow.”
”We horses do not want to fight you ponies,” the Big Gray Horse went on as the Old White Horse stopped speaking. ”We have no quarrel between us.”
”Maybe if the Indians and the white men could understand one another's talk it would stop the fighting,” Running Deer joined the conversation again. ”We horses understand one another and we do not want to fight.