“The Concho was barely running, but had long, deep pools here and there, into which horses and mules plunged, dropped down, rolled over, and then got up to nicker and bray.  The young mules did everything but drink, while the horses were crazy with delight.  When the wagon came up we went into camp and left them to play out their hands.  There was no herding to do that night, as the water would hold them as readily as a hundred men.”

“Well, I’m going to hunt my blankets,” said Uncle Lance, rising.  “You understand, Captain, that you are to sleep with me to-night.  Davy Crockett once said that the politest man he ever met in Washington simply set out the decanter and glasses, and then walked over and looked out of the window while he took a drink.  Now I want to be equally polite and don’t want to hurry you to sleep, but whenever you get tired of yarning, you’ll find the bed with me in it to the windward of that live-oak tree top over yonder.”

Captain Frank showed no inclination to accept the invitation just then, but assured his host that he would join him later.  An hour or two passed by.

“Haven’t you fellows gone to bed yet?” came an inquiry from out of a fallen tree top beyond the fire in a voice which we all recognized.  “All right, boys, sit up all night and tell fool stories if you want to.  But remember, I’ll have the last rascal of you in the saddle an hour before daybreak.  I have little sympathy for a man who won’t sleep when he has a good chance.  So if you don’t turn in at all it will be all right, but you’ll be routed out at three in the morning, and the man who requires a second calling will get a bucket of water in his face.”

Captain Frank and several of us rose expecting to take the hint of our employer, when our good intentions were arrested by a query from Dan Happersett, “Did any of you ever walk down a wild horse?” None of us had, and we turned back and reseated ourselves in the group.

“I had a little whirl of it once when I was a youngster,” said Dan, “except we didn’t walk.  It was well known that there were several bands of wild horses ranging in the southwest corner of Tom Green County.  Those who had seen them described one band as numbering forty to fifty head with a fine chestnut stallion as a leader.  Their range was well located when water was plentiful, but during certain months of the year the shallow lagoons where they watered dried up, and they were compelled to leave.  It was when they were forced to go to other waters that glimpses of them were to be had, and then only at a distance of one or two miles.  There was an outfit made up one spring to go out to their range and walk these horses down.  This season of the year was selected, as the lagoons would be full of water and the horses would be naturally reduced in flesh and strength after the winter, as well as weak and thin blooded from their first taste of grass.  We took along two wagons, one loaded with grain for our mounts.  These saddle horses had been eating grain for months before we started and their flesh was firm and solid.