The following description of the wild horses of the prairies is given in Mr. Flint's Travels in the Western World :—

The day before we came in view of the Rocky Mountains, I saw, in the greatest perfection, that impressive, and, to me, almost sublime spectacle,—an immense drove of wild horses, for a long time hovering round our path across the prairie. I had often seen great numbers of them before, mixed with other animals, apparently quiet and grazing like the rest.

Here there were thousands, unmixed, unemployed; their motions (if such a comparison may be allowed) as darting and as wild as those of humming-birds on the flowers. The tremendous snort with which the front columns of the phalanx made known their approach to us, seemed to be their wild and energetic way of expressing their pity and disdain for the servile lot of our horses, of which they appeared to be taking a survey.

They were of all colours, mixed, spotted, and diversified with every hue, from the brightest white to clear and shining black; and of every form and structure, from the long and slender race to those of firmer limb and heavier mould; and of all ages, from the curvetting colt to the range of the patriarchal steed,-drawn up in a line, and holding high their heads as they watched us in the rear.

Sometimes they curved their necks, and made no more progress than just enough to keep pace with our advance. Then there was a kind of slow and walking minuet, in which they performed various evolutions with the precision of the figures of a country dance. Then a rapid movement shifted the front to the rear. But still, in all their evolutions and movements, like the flight of sea-fowl, their lines were regular, and free from all indications of confusion. At times, a simultaneous and sudden movement toward us almost inspired the apprehension of a united attack

upon us.

After a moment's advance, a short and retrograde movement seemed to testify their proud estimate of their wild independence. The infinite variety of their rapid movements, their tramplings and manœuvres, were of such a wild and almost terrific character,

that it required but a moderate stretch of fancy to suppose them the genii of these grassy plains.

At one period they were formed, to an immense depth, in front of us. A wheel, executed almost with the rapidity of thought, presented them hovering on our flanks. Then, again, the cloud of dust that enveloped their movements cleared away, and presented them in our rear. They evidently operated as a great annoyance to the horses and mules of our cavalcade. The frighted movements, the increased indications of fatigue, sufficiently evinced, with their frequent neighings, what unpleasant neighbours they considered their wild compatriots to be.

So much did our horses appear to suffer from fatigue and terror, in consequence of their vivacity, that we were thinking of some way in which to drive them off, when suddenly a patient and laborious donkey of the establishment, who appeared to have regarded all their movements with philosophic indifference, pricked up his long ears, and gave a loud and most sonorous bray from his vocal shell.

Instantly this prodigious multitude-and there were thousands of them-took what the Spaniards call the "stampedo." With a trampling like the noise of thunder, or still more like that of an earthquake a noise that was absolutely appalling-they took to their heels, and were all in a few moments invisible in the verdant depths of the plains, and we saw them no more.

CAPTURING THE WILD HORSE.

WE left the buffalo camp about eight o'clock, and had a toilsome and harassing march of two hours, over ridges of hills covered with a ragged forest of scrub oaks and broken by deep gullies.

About ten o'clock in the morning, we came to where this line of rugged hills swept down into a valley, through which flowed the north fork of Red River. A beautiful meadow, about half a mile wide, enamelled with yellow autumnal flowers, stretched for

two or three miles along the foot of the hills; bordered on the opposite side by the river, whose banks were fringed with cottonwood trees, the bright foliage of which refreshed and delighted the eye, after having been wearied by the contemplation of monotonous wastes of brown forest.

The meadow was finely diversified by groves and clumps of trees, so happily disposed that they seemed as if set out by the hand of art. As we cast our eyes over this fresh and delightful valley, we beheld a troop of wild horses, quietly grazing on a green lawn, about a mile distant, to our right; while to our left, at nearly the same distance, were several buffaloes, some feeding, others reposing and ruminating, among the high, rich herbage, under the shade of a clump of cotton-wood trees. The whole had the appearance of a broad beautiful tract of pasture-land on the highly ornamented estate of some gentleman farmer, with his cattle grazing about the lawns and meadows.

A council of war was now held, and it was determined to profit by the present favourable opportunity, and try our hand at the grand hunting manœuvre, which is called "ringing the wild horse." This requires a large party of horsemen, well mounted. They extend themselves in every direction, at certain distances apart, and gradually form a ring of two or three miles in circumference, so as to surround the game. This must be done with extreme care, for the wild horse is the most readily alarmed inhabitant of the prairie, and can scent a hunter at a great distance, if to windward.

The ring being formed, two or three ride toward the horses, which start off in the opposite direction. Whenever they approach the bounds of the ring, however, a huntsman presents himself, and turns them from their course. In this way they are checked and driven back at every point, and kept galloping round and round this magic circle, until, being completely tired down, it is easy for hunters to ride up beside them, and throw the lariat over their heads. The prime horses, of the most speed, courage, and strength, however, are apt to break through, and escape; so that, in general, it is the second-rate horses that are taken.

Preparations were now made for a hunt of this kind. The pack horses were taken into the woods, and firmly tied to trees, lest, in a rush of wild horses, they should break away. Twentyfive men were then sent, under the command of a lieutenant, to steal along the edge of the valley, within the strip of wood that skirted the hills. They were to station themselves about fifty yards apart, within the edge of the woods, and not to advance or show themselves until the horses dashed in that direction. Twenty-five men were also sent across the valley, to steal in like manner along the river bank that bordered the opposite side, and to station themselves among the trees.

A third party, of about the same number, was to form a line stretching across the lower part of the valley, so as to connect the two wings. Beatte and our other half-breed, Antoine, together with the ever officious Tonish, were to make a circuit through the woods, so as to get to the upper part of the valley, in the rear of the horses, and drive them forward into the kind of sack that we had formed, while the two wings should join behind them, and make a complete circle.

The flanking parties were quietly extending themselves out of sight, on each side of the valley, and the residue were stretching themselves like the links of a chain across it, when the wild horses gave signs that they scented an enemy,-snuffing the air, snorting, and looking about. At length they pranced off slowly toward the river, and disappeared behind a green bank.

Here, had the regulations of the chase been observed, they would have been quietly checked and turned back by the advance of a hunter from among the trees; unluckily, however, we had our wild-fire, Jack-o'-lantern, little Frenchman to deal with. Instead of keeping quietly up the right side of the valley, to get above the horses, the moment he saw them move toward the river he broke out of the covert of woods, and dashed furiously across the plain in pursuit of them. This put an end to all system. The half-breeds and half a score of rangers joined in the chase.

Away they all went over the green bank. In a moment or two the wild horses reappeared, and came thundering down the valley,

with Frenchman, half-breeds, and rangers, galloping and bellowing behind them. It was in vain that the line drawn across the valley attempted to check and turn back the fugitives; they were too hotly pressed by their pursuers: in their panic they dashed through the line, and clattered down the plain.

The whole troop joined in the headlong chase, some of the rangers without hats or caps, their hair flying about their ears, and others with handkerchiefs tied round their heads. The buffaloes, which had been calmly ruminating among the herbage, heaved up their huge forms, gazed for a moment at the tempest that came scouring down the meadow, then turned and took to heavy rolling flight. They were soon overtaken. The promiscuous masses were pressed together by the contracting sides of the valley, and away they went, pell mell, hurry skurry, wild buffalo, wild horse, wild huntsman, with clang and clatter, and whoop and halloo, that made the forests ring.

At length the buffaloes turned into a green brake on the river bank, while the horses dashed up a narrow defile of the hills, with their pursuers close at their heels. Beatte passed several of them, having fixed his eye upon a fine Pawnee horse that had his ears slit, and saddle-marks upon his back. He pressed him gallantly, but lost him in the woods.

Among the wild horses was a fine black mare, which, in scrambling up the defile, tripped and fell. A young ranger sprang from his horse and seized her by the mane and muzzle. Another ranger dismounted, and came to his assistance. The mare struggled fiercely, kicking and biting, and striking with her fore feet; but a noose was slipped over her head, and her struggles were in vain.

It was some time, however, before she gave over rearing and plunging and lashing out with her feet on every side. The two rangers then led her along the valley, by two strong lariats, which enabled them to keep at a sufficient distance on each side to be out of the reach of her hoofs; and whenever she struck out in one direction, she was jerked in the other. In this way her spirit was gradually subdued.