The Heritage of the Desert: A Novel by Zane Grey (top novels to read TXT) 📕

“To-night you can stand on the rim here, and watch him signal across to the top of Echo Cliffs to the Navajos,” explained August to Jack. “I've sent for the best breaker of wild mustangs on the desert. Dave can break mustangs, and Piute is very good; but I want the best man in the country, because this is a grand horse, and I intend to give him to you.”

“To me!” exclaimed Hare.

“Yes, and if he's broken right at the start, he'll serve you faithfully, and not try to bite your arm off every day, or kick your brains out. No white man can break a wild mustang to the best advantage.”

“Why is that?”

“I don't know. To be truthful, I have an idea it's bad temper and lack of patience. Just wait till you see this Navajo go at Silvermane!”

After Mescal and Piute drove down the sheep, Jack accompanied Naab to the corral.

“I've brought up your saddle,” said Naab, “and you can put it on any mustang here.”

What a pleasure it was to be in the saddle again, and to feel strength to remain there! He rode with August all over the western end of the plateau. They came at length to a strip of ground, higher than the bordering forest, which was comparatively free of cedars and brush; and when August had surveyed it once he slapped his knee with satisfaction.

“Fine, better than I hoped for! This stretch is about a mile long, and narrow at this end. Now, Jack, you see the other side faces the rim, this side the forest, and at the end here is a wall of rock; luckily it curves in a half circle, which will save us work. We'll cut cedars, drag them in line, and make a big corral against the rock. From the opening in the corral we'll build two fences of trees; then we'll chase Silvermane till he's done, run him down into this level, and turn him inside the fence. No horse can break through a close line of cedars. He'll run till he's in the corral, and then we'll rope him.”

“Great!” said Jack, all enthusiasm. “But isn't it going to take a lot of work?”

“Rather,” said August, dryly. “It'll take a week to cut and drag the cedars, let alone to tire out that wild stallion. When the finish comes you want to be on that ledge where we'll have the corral.”

They returned to camp and prepared supper. Mescal and Piute soon arrived, and, later, Dave and Billy on jaded mustangs. Black Bolly limped behind, stretching a long halter, an unhappy mustang with dusty, foam-stained coat and hanging head.

“Not bad,” said August, examining the lame leg. “She'll be fit in a few days, long before we need her to help run down Silvermane. Bring the liniment and a cloth, one of you, and put her in the sheep-corral to-night.”

Mescal's love for the mustang shone in her eyes while she smoothed out the crumpled mane, and petted the slender neck.

“Bolly, to think you'd do it!” And Bolly dropped her head as though really ashamed.

When darkness fell they gathered on the rim to watch the signals. A fire blazed out of the black void below, and as they waited it brightened and flamed higher.

“Ugh!” said Piute, pointing across to the dark line of cliffs.

“Of course he'd see it first,” laughed Naab. “Dave, have you caught it yet? Jack, see if you can make out a fire over on Echo Cliffs.”

“No, I don't see any light, except that white star. Have you seen it?”

“Long ago,” replied Naab. “Here, sight along my finger, and narrow your eyes down.”

“I believe I see it—yes, I'm sure.”

“Good. How about you, Mescal?”

“Yes,” she replied.

Jack was amused, for Dave insisted that he had been next to the Indian, and Billy claimed priority to all of them. To these men bred on the desert keen sight was preeminently the chief of gifts.

“Jack, look sharp!” said August. “Peon is blanketing his fire. See the flicker? One, two—one, two—one. Now for the answer.”

Jack peered out into the shadowy space, star-studded above, ebony below. Far across the depths shone a pinpoint of steady light. The Indian grunted again, August vented his “ha!” and then Jack saw the light blink like a star, go out for a second, and blink again.

“That's what I like to see,” said August. “We're answered. Now all's over but the work.”

Work it certainly was, as Jack discovered next day. He helped the brothers cut down cedars while August hauled them into line with his roan. What with this labor and the necessary camp duties nearly a week passed, and in the mean time Black Bolly recovered from her lameness.

Twice the workers saw Silvermane standing on open high ridges, restive and suspicious, with his silver mane flying, and his head turned over his shoulder, watching, always watching.

“It'd be worth something to find out how long that stallion could go without water,” commented Dave. “But we'll make his tongue hang out to-morrow. It'd serve him right to break him with Black Bolly.”

Daylight came warm and misty; veils unrolled from the desert; a purple curtain lifted from the eastern crags; then the red sun burned.

Dave and Billy Naab mounted their mustangs, and each led another mount by a halter.

“We'll go to the ridge, cut Silvermane out of his band and warm him up; then we'll drive him down to this end.”

Hare, in his eagerness, found the time very tedious while August delayed about camp, punching new holes in his saddle-girth, shortening his stirrups, and smoothing kinks out of his lasso. At last he saddled the roan, and also Black Bolly. Mescal came out of her tent ready for the chase; she wore a short skirt of buckskin, and leggings of the same material. Her hair, braided, and fastened at the back, was bound by a double band closely fitting her black head. Hare walked, leading two mustangs by the halters, and Naab and Mescal rode, each of them followed by two other spare mounts. August tied three mustangs at one point along the level stretch, and three at another. Then he led Mescal and Jack to the top of the stone wall above the corral, where they had good view of a considerable part of the plateau.

The eastern rise of ground, a sage and juniper slope, was in plain sight. Hare saw a white flash; then Silvermane broke out of the cedars into the sage. One of the brothers raced him half the length of the slope, and then the other coming out headed him off down toward the forest. Soon the pounding of hoofs sounded through the trees nearer and nearer. Silvermane came out straight ahead on the open level. He was running easily.

“He hasn't opened up yet,” said August.

Hare