In some seasons the springs go almost
dry, though Silver Cup holds her own well enough for my cattle."
Hare marked the tufts of grass lying far apart on the yellow earth;
evidently there was sustenance enough in every two feet of ground to
support only one tuft.
"What's that?" he asked, noting a rolling cloud of dust with black
bobbing borders.
"Wild mustangs," replied Naab. "There are perhaps five thousand on the
mountain, and they are getting to be a nuisance. They're almost as bad
as sheep on the browse; and I should tell you that if sheep pass over a
range once the cattle will starve. The mustangs are getting too
plentiful. There are also several bands of wild horses."
"What's the difference between wild horses and mustangs?"
"I haven't figured that out yet. Some say the Spaniards left horses in
here three hundred years ago. Wild? They are wilder than any naturally
wild animal that ever ran on four legs. Wait till you get a look at
Silvermane or Whitefoot."
"What are they?"
"Wild stallions. Silvermane is an iron gray, with a silver mane, the
most beautiful horse I ever saw.
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