He could catch them anywhere, and track them if they got lost.

Carew tried to talk to him, but could get little out of him, for he knew only the pidgin English, which is in use in those parts, and said "No more" to nearly every question.

He rode along behind the loose horses, apparently quite satisfied with his own company.

Every now and then he came alongside the vehicle, and said "Terbacker." Charlie threw him a stick of the blackest, rankest tobacco known to the trade, and off he went again.
Once they saw him get off his horse near a lagoon, plunge his arm into a hole, and pull out a mud-turtle, an evil-smelling beast; this he carried for several miles over his shoulder, holding its head, and letting the body swing at the end of the long neck--a proceeding which must have caused the turtle intense suffering.

After a while his horse shied, and he dropped the turtle on the ground with a dull thud.
"Aren't you going to pick him up again ?" cried Carew.
"No more," replied Frying Pan, carelessly.