Watch the horses. They nip and pinch each other, and squeal with pain and anger. Ah, the winner still keeps his prize! Again he is caught, and this time it seems as if he must succumb. But his horse helps him out and, by clinging desperately to the horn of the saddle and his horse's mane, he wrests himself away from his pursuer, aided by the shying of the pursuing horse, which is kicked and bitten by his own animal. But where is the pursuer? His horse is dashing riderless away. Is he trampled to death in that swirling, sandy conflict? No, he is hanging on to the man with the rooster, belabored the while with the now bloody and dilapidated bird.
Regardless of this he still clings, although the horse is bounding along at great speed, and a hundred or more are following, all yelling and encouraging him not to let go. With a superb effort, he swings himself onto the horse behind the saddle, and with a second sudden move grabs the rooster and wrests half of it out of the original victor's hands. Seeing a chance to escape he drops upon the sand, picks himself up unhurt, and is soon seated upon a new horse. Now he becomes the pursued, and two bands, instead of one, of howling, raving, shouting demons, occupy the attention.
Finish of Contest. And thus the struggle goes on, good-naturedly, yet with a fierceness of energy that is exhausting in its wild excitement;exhausting to the onlooker, as well as the participant. When the unlucky bird is all dismembered, and the racers smeared from head to heels with blood, and it seems impossible to divide the pieces any smaller, then, and not till then, the conflict ceases.
Two Thousand Horsemen. But for superb riding watch nearly two thousand of these sons of the desert as they train their young men and boys in daring control of their horses. The greatest chief of the Navahos is a good friend of mine, and it was by his kind invitation that I was privileged to see this never-to-be-forgotten sight. He commanded the "regiment"--shall I call it?--riding alongside at times, and again standing where he could signal his demands and note the result.
An Exhibition of Riding. Let us stand with him. These riders are about to dash past. Just before they reach us, a signal is given, and every rider, in an instant, disappears over the side of his mount, while the horses continue running under perfect control. Simultaneously, every Indian reappears upon his saddle, sits about as long as one might count three, and then slides over to our side of his horse, fully in our sight, holding on by stirrup and mane, but completely hidden from one who might be looking from the other side.
Wonderful Agility. The chief was delighted, in his dignified quiet way, as I burst into warm encomiums, and told me I should soon see "some more"riding. Again the horsemen dashed past. This time I watched for their disappearance and saw where and how they went, but I was scarcely prepared to see many of them peeping at me from under the bellies of their animals.
This was done several times; then Pacoda gave me another treat. The riders came toward us. At a sign, every man sprang from his horse to the ground, to our left, gave three or four wild jumps, sprang completely over the saddle to the other side of his horse, where he gave more jumps, and then, with a yell of joyful triumph, landed into his saddle, the horse, meanwhile, keeping up his speed.
An Impressive Spectacle. But to see the whole party ride furiously away from us, nothing but black hair, sturdy backs, horses' tails and hindquarters with galloping feet presented, and then, in the twinkle of an eye it almost seemed, to have the same party dashing towards you, was a feat in horsemanship which impressed me most profoundly.
Horsemen almost from Birth. It is not to be wondered at that the Navaho is an expert horseman. He is as nearly born on horseback, literally, as he can be, for on several occasions I have ridden with Navaho friends, among whom was an expectant mother, have stopped half an hour for the birth, and then, with the new-born babe strapped on the mother's back, have resumed the trip, completing, perhaps, forty or fifty miles in a day. Children born under such conditions could not fail to be skilful horsemen.
