I cut a grape vine with my knife, and made it into a bridle; and shortly after dark I went into the field and tried to catch one of the horses.

I got a bunch of dry blades of fodder and walked up softly towards the horses, calling to them "cope," "cope," "cope;" but there was only one out of the number that I was able to get my hand on, and that was an old mare, which I supposed to be the mother of all the rest; and I knew that I could walk faster than she could travel.

She had a bell on and was very thin in flesh; she looked gentle and walked on three legs only.

The young horses pranced and galloped off.

I was not able to get near them, and the old mare being of no use to me, I left them all.
After fixing my eyes on the north star I pursued my journey, holding on to my bridle with a hope of finding a horse upon which I might ride that night.
I found a road leading pretty nearly in the direction which I wanted to travel, and I kept it.