THE MUSTANGS
Bred to the Game of the World as the Kings and the Emperors played it, Fate and our masters hurled us over the terrible sea. When the sails of the carracks were furled the Game was the Game that we made it,— We that were horses in Spain were gods in a realm to be!
Swift at the word we sped, we fought in the front of the battle,— Ah, but the wild men fled when they heard us neigh from afar! The field was littered with dead, cut down like slaughtered cattle —Ah, but the earth is red where the Conquistadores are!
Now does the desert wake and croon of hidalgos coming— Now for her children's sake she is whetting her sword to slay, And the armored squadrons break, and our iron-shod hoofs are drumming On the rocks of the mountain pass—we are free, we are off and away!
Hush—did a man's foot fall in the pasture where we go straying? Listen—is that the call of a man aware of his right? Hearken, my comrades all—once more the Game they are playing! Masters, we come, we come, to be one with you in the fight!
XIII
THE WHITE MEDICINE MAN
"Cavalry without horses, in ships without sailors, built by blacksmiths without forges and carpenters without tools. Now who in Spain will believe that?" commented Cabeça de Vaca.