After we had been in camp here a few days, Washakie told me that I might begin breaking the colts. That was more fun for me. We caught one, tied it to a tree and let it stand there until it stopped pulling back, then we led it to water. We staked it out near camp and let it stay there to feed all night. The next morning I found that I could lead it alone to water, so I thought I would try to ride it.
I was putting my saddle on it when mother said, “You had better ride it bareback.” I told her that I could not stay on without my saddle, so she told me to do as I liked. The colt, however, objected so strongly to being saddled that he came near getting away from me.
Howard R. Driggs
Crow Indian ponies feeding among the sage. From a photograph taken near Custer battle field, Montana.
“Put a blanket over its head, so it cannot see,” said mother.
I tied the broncho to a brush, threw a blanket over its head, and mother helped me to tie it on. By this time about fifty kids had gathered around to see the fun. When the saddle was cinched, mother said, “Now get on and I will pull the blanket off its head.”
I mounted carefully and then said, “Let him go.” Off came the blanket and away went the horse. He whirled and sprang into the air, coming down with his head between his forelegs. I went flying toward the creek, and I didn’t stop till I got to the bottom of it. When I crawled out and wiped the water out of my eyes, I could see that colt going across the prairie with my saddle under his belly and kicking at every jump.
“Let him go,” said my mother, as I started after him.
I said I would ride that horse if I never killed another Indian.