Back to the herd's haunts went Billy, and again he camped for the night, but was aroused at dawn by a sound that he at first thought was distant thunder.
But his ears soon were undeceived as he sprung to his feet, well knowing that it was the herd of wild horses.
Instantly Billy formed his plan of action and mounting Little Grey rode into a thicket near by, which wholly concealed him from view.
Here he waited, for he knew that the herd was coming to the river to drink, and a cry of delight burst from his lips as he beheld the black stallion in the lead.
"It is the horse the settlers call Sable Satan and that belonged to a horse thief, father told me, who was shot from his back one night.
"Well, if I can catch him I'll be in luck, and I'll try it, though they say he is awful vicious. Be quiet, Gray, or you'll spoil all."
On came the large drove at a trot directly for the river, and a beautiful sight it was as they moved forward in solid mass, with flowing mane and tail and the rising sun glancing upon every variety of color.
The leader was a perfect beauty, black as ink, with glossy hide and long mane and tail—the equine king of the herd.
With his reins well in hand, his lariat ready, and full of excitement, Billy waited for the horses to reach the stream, which they entered to quench their thirst.
As every head was lowered and the nostrils driven deep into the cool waters, out of the thicket dashed the Boy Horse-Hunter, and the clattering hoofs startled the drove, and in confusion and fright they turned to fly.