“Hurrah! Ticktock, you found her!” he shouted.
He uncoiled his lasso as he approached. He was going to make good his boasts after all. Triumphantly he started to swing his rope. He made two circles around his head and the rope caught on the limb of a tree and fell in a tangle about his shoulders. He straightened out the lariat and tried again. This time the noose caught on a limb and refused to come loose. Feeling very uncowboylike, Jim dismounted, climbed the tree, and freed his lasso.
Half an hour later Jim was still trying. Either the rope would catch on a branch or the horse would move away just as he cast. He couldn’t use a very large noose due to the crowding branches, and somehow a limb always protected the mare’s head or she moved just in time to make the small noose whiz by harmlessly. Being hit on the head a number of times by a rope wasn’t making the Percheron any more approachable either. She was definitely getting tired of the game and fast becoming skittish.
Ticktock watched his master’s endeavors patiently for a long time. He was used to Jim’s games and at first thought this was another form of roping practice. Gradually, however, he began to realize that Jim was really trying to rope the mare for some purpose. He could sense the disappointment after each unsuccessful try. Also, Ticktock was getting tired of going through trees after the mare. He had been going steadily all morning and felt like stopping. So he decided to end all this nonsense. While Jim was resting after a particularly strenuous cast, Ticktock took charge. He gave a soft neigh and then waited. The mare neighed back.
Ticktock turned his head around and gave a long look at his rider. There was no mistaking his meaning. “You’ve had your chance, now let me try,” he seemed to say. Very slowly and patiently he made his way toward the mare. Jim sat quietly in the saddle. Finally Ticktock stopped and stood waiting. After a few more exchanges of nickers, the mare walked over to the mustang and the two horses began to rub noses. Gradually Ticktock edged around until they were side by side. Jim reached over and slipped one end of his rope around the mare’s neck. The chase was ended.
He led the mare back to the hideaway and tied her to a tree. He took off Ticktock’s saddle and the pony rolled gratefully in the tall grass. Jim sat down to eat his lunch, feeling very satisfied and happy. Ticktock was certainly a smart horse; he knew how to do everything. Now they could go back home in triumph. That seemed even more important than the reward. There was no question about it; his horse had saved the day.
As he thought about how creditable Ticktock’s part had been, Jim began to grow dissatisfied with his own performance. He had fallen down on the roping. He couldn’t very well go back and tell how he had finally caught the horse. There wasn’t anything very dashing about that. Something had to be done.
He got up, saddled Ticktock, and led the mare out to the middle of the clearing. Very gently he undid the rope from her neck, talking soothingly all the time. While the mare contentedly cropped the grass, Jim backed Ticktock away a few feet. He swung his lariat quietly and slowly. He leaned forward and when the mare looked up he cast. The noose dropped squarely over her head.
With a sigh of relief, Jim rode up to the mare. He tied a knot so the noose would not choke the Percheron and then rode off through the trees, leading his valuable captive.