“The horse-lot was inclosed by massive logs and stout timbers, capable of successfully resisting the most determined effort on the part of the beasts to escape. Connected with the large enclosure were several smaller ones, and into one of these Ranger was driven. Frank then took from his saddle a coil of three-quarter-inch rope, forty feet long, and a second coil about half as long, but much heavier, and an oilcloth slicker. Thus equipped, he slipped into the inclosure and faced the horse. Making a noose in one of the coils, he quickly threw it over Ranger's head and fastened the other end to a post called the tug-post. The animal commenced to rear and plunge, but at every plunge the slack in the rope was taken up, and Ranger was soon alongside the post. Here he was made secure with a Spanish knot, which his struggles only served to tighten.
“Seizing the old slicker, the trainer next hit the horse over the head and neck, causing the animal to rear and kick. The horse was soon tired out, and the blows that fell upon him scarcely caused him to wince. The trainer next took his long rope and fastened it around Ranger's head in such a manner that it served as a halter. The other end of the rope was secured to the post. A rope was then placed around the animal's body in such a manner that it would not slip, and another rope was fastened to his hind foot. The rope attached to the foot was drawn through the one around his body and the end taken by the trainer.
“A couple of hard pulls brought the foot up to the stomach, and the horse was compelled to stand on three legs, thus unable to kick or rear. The trainer then patted the horse on the head and slipped the bridle on. Then the saddle was put in the proper place, and the stirrups 'hobbled,' to prevent any injury to the animal, should he fall. The rider then seated himself in the saddle, the ropes were taken from the horse's feet and body, the gate of the pen opened, and horse and rider dashed out on the prairie. For fully an hour the infuriated animal reared, plunged and jumped about, vainly endeavoring to throw his rider, but finally, becoming exhausted, came to a standstill, and had to be urged even to walk. It was then that the horse was broken.”
“And now,” said Mr. Graham, after pausing a moment, “did you ever hear of how they used to capture wild horses in Texas by 'creasing' them?”
“I've read about it,” replied Charley, “but forget exactly how it was done.”
“Well,” responded Mr. Graham, “here's an account by a man who was once in the business and knows all about it. Shall I read it?”
Both the youths were anxious to hear about this manner of taking horses, whereupon their father gave them the following in the words of Mr. Hill, an experienced cattle raiser of Texas:
“In the early days of the cattle business in Texas, from 1857 to 1860, the ranges were overrun by bands of wild horses. These animals were a great nuisance, as they would get mixed with our loose horses and run them off when any one approached. As a rule, they were a rough, ill-shaped set of beasts, and almost untamable, so that few attempts were ever made to catch them, it being considered best to shoot them and thus get rid of a disturbing influence in our horse herds.
“Sometimes, however, a really fine animal would be seen and the ranchmen would try hard to secure it. But the ordinary mode of capture—lassoing—could seldom be used against wild horses, as these beasts were very shy, and even a poor horse, carrying no weight, could outstrip a very fine animal with a man on his back.