Hence wild asses also are found in
the western prairies. But think not, reader, of those poor miserable
wretches we see at home, which seem little better than rough door-mats
sewed up and stuffed, with head, tail, and legs attached, and just
enough of life infused to make them move! No, the wild ass of the
prairie is a large powerful, swift creature. He has the same long
ears, it is true, and the same hideous, exasperating bray, and the
same tendency to flourish his heels; but for all that he is a very
fine animal, and often wages _successful_ warfare with the wild horse.
But to return. The next drove of mustangs that Dick and Crusoe saw
were feeding quietly and unsuspectingly in a rich green hollow in the
plain. Dick's heart leaped up as his eyes suddenly fell on them,
for he had almost discovered himself before he was aware of their
presence.
"Down, pup!" he whispered, as he sank and disappeared among the grass,
which was just long enough to cover him when lying quite flat.
Crusoe crouched immediately, and his master made his observations of
the drove, and the dispositions of the ground that might favour his
approach, for they were not within rifle range.
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