six
minutes past three
Then he stood still and brayed , as if he were frightened to find himself loose , and that was all that was needed . It was after three o'clock , and in one minute the whole corral was kicking and squealing , braying , biting , and getting free , and joining in the general opinion that it was time to run away . That is what the western men call a `` stampede , '' and whenever one occurs there is pretty surely a mule or a thief at the bottom of it ; but sometimes a hail-storm will do as well , or nearly so . By five or six minutes past three all of that herd were racing westward , with boys and men getting out of breath behind it , and all the squaws in the camp were holding hard upon the lariats of the ponies tethered among the lodges . When morning came there were hardly ponies enough to `` pack '' the lodges and other baggage and every soul of the band had to carry something as they all set off , bright and early , upon the trail of the stampeded drove of ponies . Some of the warriors had followed it without any stopping for breakfast , and they might have caught up with it , perhaps , but for the good generalship of that old mule . He had decided in his own mind to trot right along until he came to something to eat and drink , and the idea was a persuasive one .