The Project Gutenberg eBook of White Dandy, by Velma Caldwell Melville.

THE SUNNYSIDE SERIES. No. 102. July, 1898. Issued Quarterly.
$1.00 per year. Entered at New York Post-Office as second-class matter.
(Copyright 1898 by J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Co.)

"WHITE DANDY"

OR,

MASTER AND I.

CHAPTER I.

Master is Dr. Richard Wallace and I am Dandy, the doctor's favorite horse, long-tried companion and friend.

Neither of us are as young as we once were, but time seems to tell less on us than on some others, though I have never been quite the same since that dreadful year that Master was out West. He often strokes my face and says: "We're getting old, my boy, getting old, but it don't matter." Then I see a far away look in the kind, blue eyes—a look that I know so well—and I press my cheek against his, trying to comfort him. I know full well what he is thinking about, whether he mentions it right out or not.

Yes, I remember all about the tragedy that shaped both our lives, and how I have longed for intelligent speech that I might talk it all over with him.

He is sixty-two now and I only half as old, but while he is just as busy as ever, he will not permit me to undertake a single hardship.

Dr. Fred—his brother and partner—sometimes says: "Don't be a fool over that old horse, Dick! He is able to work as any of us." But the latter smiles and shakes his head: "Dandy has seen hard service enough and earned a peaceful old age."

Fred sneers. He says he has no patience with "Dick's nonsense;" but then he was in Europe when the tragedy[Pg 2] occurred, and besides I suppose it takes the romance and sentiment out of a man to have two wives, raise three bad boys and bury one willful daughter, to say nothing of the grandson he has on his hands now; and I might add further that he is a vastly different man from Dick anyway.

It is a grand thing to spend one's life for others; that is what my master has done, and it is what we horses do. Of course he is looking forward to his reward, but we are not expecting anything, though he insists that there will be a heaven for all faithful domestic animals. Fred says there is no Bible for it, but Dick says that they could not mention everything in one book. He says, too, that while he believes everything to be true that is in the Bible, at the same time he knows many things to be true that are not there; then he tells about a good old minister, who, when asked to lend his influence in the organization of a society for the prevention of cruelty to animals, replied that if Paul had written a chapter on the subject he would consider it worth his while to countenance the movement, but as he didn't, he must be excused.

For the benefit of such men, Master says he wishes the apostle had had time and inclination to write a chapter, and since he did not—with due reverence for Paul—it would have suited him better, and met a nineteenth century need closer, if he had omitted suggestions on ladies' toilets and dealt a few of his sledge-hammer blows at the man who oppresses the defenseless. Of course I know nothing about such things myself, but Dr. Dick has always had a fashion of talking all sorts of things to me, and I have a retentive memory.

But I must begin my story, for I have set out to give you a history of "Master and I" and, incidentally, of many another man and beast.

I will begin shortly after the tragedy; maybe before I get through I will tell you about that, but to-day I do not feel equal to it.

Well, he came into my stall, where I had literally shivered with terror ever since that dreadful morning four days before, and, throwing his arms about my neck, burst into tears.[Pg 3] A long while he sobbed there, and then growing calmer, he began caressing me, and said:

"Dandy, boy, you are going home with me, to live with me while I live, to walk beside my coffin, and to be shot beside my grave, if so be you outlive me."

"I hate to part with ye, Dandy, fer fact I do!" he said, standing off and looking me over, "but then ye'd a gone anyhow, I s'pose." Then he put a halter on me and led me out to where the doctor's horses were standing hitched to a buggy and tied me fast to the back.

All the folks came out of the house and surely they cried harder than on either of those other days, but the doctor, with his lips white and set close together, hurried into the buggy and, with a backward nod, drove off. I glanced back and neighed good-by, then took up my journey with a heavy heart. I wanted to go and yet I wanted to stay. Certainly it was not enlivening to have to watch my master's agony all that weary seventy miles to his home.

Of course we stopped over night, and my first night it was away from home. I assure you that I felt lonely and wretched enough.

"Give all my horses the best of care," Master said to the hostler, "especially the white one."

"Don't s'pose they're any better'n other nags," he muttered, the minute we were out of hearing, and he took us to the pump, tired and heated as we were, and gave us all the water we could drink.

"What would Dr. Dick say?" Queen, one of the span of bays, said, as we turned away.

Of course the man did not understand, but thinking she was calling for more water he pumped another pailful and offered it to her. In surprise she turned her head aside, which so angered him, that he dashed the whole of the water right on to her.

Then he led us into dark, dirty stalls, roughly removed the harness from the bays and threw us some hay. When[Pg 4] he was gone, at least we could not hear him, Queen said:

"I am all of a shiver; I believe it was the cold water inside and out. Dear me, I wish Master would come out."

"So do I," said Julie. "One thing is sure, we will have to stand up all night, I can never lie down in this filthy place."

Meanwhile, I was nosing the hay, but it smelled so musty and something in it tickled my nostrils.

"Oh, yes," Julie answered, "if you are going to be a doctor's horse you'll get worse than this."

Being pretty hungry, I nibbled away at it until a groan from Queen startled me. "Ain't you any better?" queried Julie. "No, I am shaking so I can hardly stand; how I do wish I had a blanket!"

"Rubbing us down!" Julie spoke with scorn. "Unless Master comes out himself, as he generally does, there'll be no rubbing down to-night. About daylight they'll come around with an old currycomb and all but take the skin off us, along with the mud that will be formed out of the sweat and dust that ought to be rubbed off to-night."

"Got fever," remarked her mate, who seemed to have been around the world a good deal and grown used to everything.

After what seemed an age, a light flashed into the barn and two strange horses were tied in the next stalls. The same man led them. After throwing them some hay he came into my stall.

"Here, you fool, why don't you eat your hay, not muss over it?" he cried angrily, pushing it together with one hand while with the other he dealt me a blow across the nose. It was the first blow that I had ever received, and it hurt me in more ways than one. Just then a boy came in with a peck measure of oats.

"There hain't none o' these critters tetched their hay hardly; 'nd their boss hez gone to bed sick, so I guess we'll 'conomize on the oats till mornin'."

Before morning of that wretched night I lay down; I could not help it, I was so tired, hungry and sad.

Sure enough, by daylight (or lantern light in that windowless barn) the man and boy were at us with currycombs as if we had had no more feeling than barn doors. Then we each had a meager portion of oats. Julie and I ate ours readily enough, but poor Queen was too ill.

When the man noticed this he swore a little, then lengthened her halter strap and ordered the boy to scatter some straw over the filth in all our stalls.

By and by Master came out looking wan and haggard in the dim light. "Poor girl!" he said, tenderly, running his fingers along the edge of Queen's jaw to the pulse.

"Mercy, Queenie, what a pulse—ninety!" Then he questioned the man as to his care of us, but never a word of truth he got in reply, but we could not tell.

"Lead her out into the daylight," Dr. Dick ordered, adding: "Haven't you a lot or yard where all my horses can be turned in for awhile?"

The man demurred, but Master soon brought the landlord and we were taken out into the sunlight. So busy was the former administering a dose of aconite to Queen that he did not at first notice me, but when he did an angry ejaculation escaped his lips as he pointed to my side. I was astonished, too, when I saw instead of my spotless coat, a great yellow stain.

"I am sure there seemed to be clean straw in the stalls," the latter replied, "I'll ask the man."

"No need," answered the doctor, curtly, "I am the one to blame for trusting any man to take care of these good servants who cannot speak for themselves."

It was almost noon before we started and then the bays walked every step of the way.

Just before leaving, the span of horses that came in after us the night before were brought out, one of them limping painfully.

"Oh, that is nothing, Jerry is always lame when he first starts, and nearly all the rest of the time, for that matter," he added, as if it were a good joke.

"Oh, I don't know; never thought much about it; he's an old horse," and with this he drove off.

Dr. Fred's first wife and her two boys were waiting to—but you can't understand what for yet. There were not so many railroads and lines of telegraph then, and no intimation of the news we brought had reached her. She cried and petted Dr. Dick as if he had been her own child. She put her arms about my neck and kissed me, too, making me think of other arms and other kisses. Ah me!

The Wallaces lived in the small country village of K—— and controlled a large practice. The brothers were ambitious, but had started poor, and not until the year before had they felt that either could spend a few months abroad. Fred was the elder, and there were other reasons why Dick preferred to go later, so it happened that the former was the last of the family for me to know.

The Wallace barn was a large frame building, warm in winter, cool, from having perfect ventilation, in summer, and well lighted.

Dr. Dick would have no hay mowed to be dropped into the mangers, nor would he have it stored directly above us all. He insisted that the dust would inevitably sift down and be the cause of various diseases of the eye, ear, throat and lungs.

He was particular about the stalls and feed boxes, too. He said it was a shame for an animal with a low body and short neck to be expected to take any comfort eating from a box put up for a high horse with a long neck. He had each[Pg 7] stall fitted up with reference to its occupant, nor would he allow us to be put where we did not belong.

Queen and Julie were regular long, clean-limbed roadsters and their feed boxes were much higher than mine. I am of heavy build, with short legs and neck. The first time Dr. Fred looked me over—when Dr. Dick was absent—he remarked: "A pretty horse for a doctor! Slow and clumsy! No endurance!"

CHAPTER II.

Besides the bays, the Wallaces owned one other horse, old Ross, a somewhat worn and battered veteran, who entertained me for hours at a time, when we were standing alone in the shady pasture or in the barn, with tales of what he had seen, known and experienced.

"You look like a nice young fellow," he said on the second day of my arrival; "but I'd rather be myself, all battered up as I am, than you, for I have the satisfaction of knowing that I can't live many years longer and you may happen to suffer through a long lifetime yet."

"Yes, it is very bad to live if you are owned by some people. Of course I am happy and contented here, only I know I shall be sold by and by. I am about worn out, and Dr. Fred said before he went away that I was getting too stiff for a doctor's horse."

The season following my coming to K—— proved to be a never-to-be-forgotten one. Cholera raged for many weeks, and I had to take my share of the work, especially as Queen was not strong. She was never as well again before that night in the livery stable. She took cold easily and could not endure fatigue. Days and nights together Master[Pg 8] never rested and scarcely ate anything, but in one sense it was a good thing; it helped him forget.

One day he had had the bays out since just after midnight and Ross had fallen terribly lame the day before, so when a call came for him to go a dozen or more miles in a pouring rain he was obliged to saddle me.

"Poor little Dandy!" he said, "your legs are too short for such a journey, but it is life or death to the mother of seven little ones."

That was enough for me; my legs might be short but they were strong, and though the doctor was heavy I felt equal to the task. I started off on a swift canter but Master drew rein, telling me to husband my strength for the last half of the way.

It had long been dark when we arrived—inky dark, too, with no cessation of the rainfall. A trembling hand held out a lantern while a hollow voice fairly sobbed: "I'm afeard ye're too late, doctor, my woman is sinking fast."

"Now, see here, my man, you take good care of my noble little horse here and I'll pull the wife through, or fail doing my best."

By the uncertain light of the lantern I saw that I was being tied in a sort of shed. My saddle was removed, but its place was soon supplied by a stream of water that trickled through a hole in the roof. Move which way I would, a leak was directly over my back. The man laid some newly-cut grass across some poles, barely within my reach, and went away.

All the while I was aware that the place had another occupant, though I could see nothing. Presently a horse's voice in the darkness asked if I had come far. From the first tone I noticed a sadness, but I replied to the question, adding that I would rather be out of doors than in this leaky place.

"Oh," she said, "this ain't bad now, but it is a dreary place in winter with the snow drifting in and the wind whistling through."

I was too much surprised to answer at first, and in a minute she gave a long, piteous whinny.

"My baby, my pretty, little roan colt; they took him from me last week and have not brought him back. It seems as if my heart must break! We were never separated an hour before, and I don't see how he will get along alone. My baby, oh, my baby!"

I expressed my pity for her, and she said it did her good to have some one to talk to.

"Oh, it is a dreadful thing to be a mother, loving your offspring as much as human mothers do, and yet be speechless and helpless," she moaned.

"They tied me in here and drove Selim into a corner and caught him. I jerked and neighed until master kicked me and bade me shut my head. By this time the others had got Selim out, and I could hear him calling to me. His voice grew fainter and fainter and then all was still."

"I suppose your master sold him. Ross, the old horse at our place, says he was taken from his mother and sold."

"Oh me! if colts must be taken from their mothers in that way, why can't they get us used to the separation by degrees, not tear us apart without a moment's warning or word of farewell?"

"Why can't they?" I repeated, then added: "But I guess your master is getting pay now for his cruelty. His wife is almost dying with cholera, and my master says there are seven little children."

"I shall certainly pity the children if they are deprived of a mother's care, but they will feel no worse than little Selim does."

After awhile Dr. Dick came out to the shed. I suppose the rain had ceased by that time, at least the stream of water on my back had, but I was standing in some sort of filth, with the mud hardening on my legs. A long while he scraped and rubbed my legs and back, then turned me out into a little pasture.

It was just growing gray in the morning when a man rode past the pasture on a horse that fairly swayed from side to side, he was so exhausted, and blood and foam poured from his mouth and nostrils.

"Likely you'll have a time to ketch the colt," the owner of the premises was saying as I came up. The doctor laughed.

"Why, that is queer," the man said. "I can never get near the old mare even, when she's out."

"Well, sir," replied Master, looking very serious, "I would be ashamed to treat a dumb animal so badly that it would fear to come at my call. My horses know that I am their friend, and that, though I may have to work them hard, I will not require more of them than they can do, and that they can trust me in all things."

"Dandy and I love each other," he added. Then he went for the saddle and bridle. My companion of the evening before was still neighing pitifully, and Master inquired the cause.

"Sir, if your wife or any of your children die," he said severely, when the other had told about the colt, "just remember that you deserve it, for having no regard for the feelings of a dumb mother. The God who noteth the sparrow's fall, will measure unto you as you measure unto the helpless. There is a merciful and humane way of dealing in all these matters. If I were in your place, I'd send one of the boys to bring that colt where its mother can see it for a day and then let her watch it go away. 'Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.'"

"Follow at your leisure; that poor beast is well-nigh done for; I will hurry on and do all I can," Dr. Dick said to the stranger, whose sister had been attacked by the epidemic; and away we flew.

My training had all been for the saddle, and, whether built right or not, I was at home under it. We turned in at the Wallace gateway just forty-eight hours after going out of it.

"Dandy is a jewel, Bob!" Master replied heartily, "a[Pg 11] perfect saddle horse and with ambition and sense enough for a dozen horses."

And thus began my actual experience as a doctor's horse; and from that time on our names were continually associated together, first by the family and finally by the whole town and neighborhood.

I remember one small boy, coming in haste for the doctor, breathlessly announced that he had come for "Dick and Dandy."

I was soon trained to drive in a sulky, and grew to like it better than the saddle, only that I could not hear quite as well what the doctor said to me—in common conversation—as we traveled along.

The news of the epidemic brought Dr. Fred home some little time before he intended coming, but his coming brought no additional happiness to the stables, whether it did to the house or not.

He rushed about everything, spoke in a loud, confusing tone, issued one order only to countermand it by another, used profane language and—drank whisky.

"We've had our good time," Ross remarked significantly, and Julie gave an acquiescent snort.

Meanwhile a new blacksmith had bought out the old one in K—— and Dr. Dick was wondering if the former was a bungler. Ross did not get over his lameness, and Master had had his shoes removed and turned him out into the pasture.

CHAPTER III.

The epidemic abated with the early frosts, and the Wallace brothers had a little more leisure. Dr. Dick was thin and pale, but assured Mrs. Fred, when she worried about it, that he would soon pick up.

One day Dr. Fred drove home with Julie and a new mate. He had traded Queen off. The new horse was named Kit, and she did not match Julie in color as Queen had.

Mrs. Fred cried. She said it seemed just like trading one of the family off, and she could not endure it.

"You're a—pair of fools," growled Fred, "and I have had enough of this nonsense! A horse is no more than any other piece of property, and I'll trade every one on the place if I please."

"You dasn't trade Dandy," cried the eldest of the family hopefuls, saucily; "he's Uncle Dick's."

But before her harness was fairly off, the unwelcome stranger lay flat on her side, her whole frame quivering and her four legs stretched straight out.

Fred stood staring helplessly, and then I surmised, what I afterwards learned to be true, that with all his headstrong swagger he was as helpless as a child when things went wrong.

He examined her feet as well as he could and then sent for the smith to remove her shoes.

"There is nothing particular wrong with these shoes," the smith said, "but her feet are in a fearful condition from wrong shoeing and senseless cutting and rasping in the past. I am ashamed of our craftsmen. Blacksmiths are, as a class, the most unenlightened, pig-headed men in the world. I can trace the history of this poor beast's sufferings right down. First some man, with more theory than sense, took her feet, perfect from the hand of the Creator, who, knowing enough to make a horse, knew enough to make its feet, and with his knife trimmed the frog and thinned the sole until he could feel it yield when he pressed on it. (This is an important part of the average farrier's creed). Next, I suppose, he 'opened the heel,' and then proceeded to nail on a shoe, regardless of whether it fitted or not. The chances for its fitting would be about equal to yours or mine if we shut our eyes in a shoe store and picked out a pair of boots at random. As the shoe[Pg 13] didn't fit the foot, the foot must be made to fit the shoe, so down came the ever-ready rasp, and the business was finished up speedily. From that hour, doubtless years ago, this poor creature has suffered untold torture. Meantime, dozens of bunglers have tried their knives, rasps and hammers on mangled feet. God forgive them!"

"I don't know," put in Dr. Dick, "whether one ought to pray for blessings or curses on such men."

"Well, such things will go on until owners of horseflesh inform themselves on this subject, and then insist upon having the work done right.

"I often think, as I watch team after team pass along the street, of the dumb agony, unguessed at, moving by. Two-thirds of our horses suffer daily with their feet. Most cases of stumbling are from diseased feet, induced by improper shoeing, and yet men are forever jerking and cursing the stumbling horse."

"Just see these nails," went on the farrier, presently, "as large again as they need or ought to be; and look at her hoofs all picked to pieces with the things. Well, Dr. Fred can't drive his 'trade' in many a week."

When the latter came out again and learned the true condition of things, he began to bluster about the man who had cheated him, and swore he'd make him trade back, but he never tried it. During the weeks that poor Kit was under treatment, he used Julie in the sulky and Dr. Dick rode me, excepting once in a while they drove Julie and Ross in the buggy. Fred wanted to drive me with Julie, but my master said "No," most emphatically.

"I will not be guilty of such barbarity," he declared, "and it is barbarous to drive a short-legged, heavy horse with a long-legged one;" but, despite his care, I was still to have a trial of it.

Perhaps I ought to mention that the first thing they did for Kit was to soak her feet, by having her stand in tubs of warm water. When the dry, cramped horn and stuff was thoroughly softened, they poulticed them with boiled turnip occasionally and kept her standing the most of the time in[Pg 14] moist sawdust. In the day she ran out in the pasture if she liked, and all the time her feet were greased. In about two months the humane smith put some shoes on her, but they were very unlike those worn by the rest of us; they were made on purpose. He said they must be changed often. Then the Wallaces sold her to a farmer, after explaining the case to him—at least Dr. Dick did. He said she would be all right for farm work, but could never stand fast driving.

Imagine our joy, not long afterward, when Master came home one night with Julie in the sulky and Queen tied at the back. Dear Queen, how her eyes wandered to every familiar spot and how she neighed with gladness!

Ross and I answered lustily, and even Grim, the dog, barked and capered in welcome.

"I have been so homesick," she said, "oh, so dreadfully homesick, but I couldn't tell it! Again and again I opened my mouth and tried to articulate just the one word, 'Don't,' when Dr. Fred was making the trade, but of course, it only ended in what people call a whinny. If they would only try putting themselves in our places, maybe they could guess what we are trying to say."

Speaking of Grim, a little way back, reminds me that I should have introduced him before. Strange I could neglect to mention anything belonging to my master, or if not really belonging, indebted to him for home and existence. It all happened before I came, but the others told me of it. Dr. Dick had gone to a neighboring city on business, and while walking along the street one day was startled by the cry of "Mad-dog." Turning quickly, he saw a long, slender brown dog running toward him, pursued by a band of hoodlums with stones and clubs. Everybody cleared the way without question, even the policeman. In one glance he recognized, not a mad-dog, but an abused, frightened creature running for its life. He had thick driving-gloves on, and acting on the impulse of the moment, as well as on the impulse uppermost with him to defend the defenceless, he turned and clasped his hands about the panting animal's neck, at the same moment speaking gently and reassuringly to it. On pressed the mob, scattering and surrounding him,[Pg 15] half-a-dozen clubs and knives raised to dispatch the dog.

"Fools, this dog is not mad; get out and let me manage him," he roared. A couple of police ventured near by this time, and he appealed to them to disperse the crowd.

I heard Master say myself that that dog looked up into his face with eyes of human intelligence, from which thanks and trust plainly shone out.

Of course, the dog wasn't mad, but somebody had started the story; and Ross says give a horse, cow, dog, cat, or any creature that cannot speak for itself, a bad name and it is worse than killing it outright. Well, Master fed and petted the half-dead creature, and finally brought him home to Chet and Carm, Dr. Fred's boys.

Grim was quite a character in his way and much respected, inasmuch as he gave warning once in the night when the house was on fire, and saved the little daughter of a neighbor when a vicious cow was about to gore her.

Dr. Dick says that either here or hereafter all kind deeds shall be rewarded; "and unkind ones, too," he usually adds.

As the nights became cold, Grim left the rug on the front porch and came to the barn. I invited him to sleep in my manger and soon we became intimate friends.

One night when the other horses—that is, the bays—were out and Ross so far off that our talk would not disturb him, I asked Grim about his early life.

"Well," he said, "there is not much to tell. I cannot remember when I did not live in the pretty brown cottage on South street, in the city where Dr. Dick found me. My constant playmate was a little girl with sunny curls and a sweet face. Ruthie her name was. They were all kind to me there, feeding and petting me continually, but one day something happened, I don't know what, but Ruthie and her mother went off in a strange carriage early in the afternoon. I watched for their return, but it came on dark and master came home, and still they weren't there. I trotted around after him until he picked up a letter that lay on the dining table. I noticed that his fingers trembled and he grew very white as he read it. At last he began rushing madly about the room, crushing the letter in his hands and fairly hissing.

"Suddenly he dropped on his knees beside me and gathering me in his arms, sobbed out: 'I am going to find Ruthie, Brownie [I was called Brownie then] and maybe I'll——,' but he did not finish the sentence. He was in the bedroom awhile, then he came out, dressed for traveling, told me to go out, went out himself, locked the door and was soon lost to sight in the darkness. I could not understand, but felt that some dreadful thing had happened. I did not feel hungry that night, nor did I sleep much. In the morning I dug up a buried bone and made a very poor breakfast. Night found me still more lonely and hungry. Thus many days passed, and I was obliged to beg my meals at the neighbor's over the way. Such a sad life as I led, lying most of the time on the porch guarding the shut door. I felt myself responsible. Toward fall a strange man and woman came, unlocked the doors and took possession; but they would have nothing to say to me, only to bid me 'begone.' It all seemed worse yet. While the house was alone I felt that I had a home, but now I was ordered from even my old rug. No wonder that I got poor and thin and people thought that I acted strangely. I heard the woman tell a neighbor that she and her husband had rented the house, all furnished, till spring. She grew more unkind to me every day, and was always wondering what that 'horrid dog hung skulking around for.' Once her husband told her that it was because it was my home. 'Well,' she said, 'it ain't now, and I'll have him shot, or I'll scald him if he don't keep away.'

"Well, I was saved by Dr. Dick, and I love him and all that belongs to him as only a grateful dog can love."

"What a terribly cruel thing for your people to leave you there unprovided for!" I cried, indignantly.

"Yes, it was cruel, but I am sure some great trouble came to them else they never would have done it. Anyway, it is no uncommon thing for folks to leave their pets that way; I have known many instances. While I lived in the city an old lady in the next street went away to spend the winter, leaving her pet cat to forage for itself. The poor creature[Pg 17] was dreadful shy, but I used to see her sit day in and day out on the cold, icy step, looking piteously up at the door and waiting for it to be opened. One very cold morning I noticed her there and thought I would carry over a piece of my meat. She always ran away when she saw me, but I thought I could lay it down and she would come back to it. Imagine my surprise when she never moved. At last I stood beside her, and then I saw she was dead; starved and frozen, her sightless eyes still looking up at the door-knob."

"Yes, and some other time I will tell you of other things I knew about there, but we have had enough for one night. Hark! I hear Master's bells!"

CHAPTER IV.

That was a severe winter, with plenty of snow and ice after the middle of December. How I did enjoy skimming over the smooth roads, with Master in the light cutter behind me, and the merry jingle of the bells keeping time to my flying footsteps. No matter how great the hurry when we stopped, he never neglected to blanket me, and blanketing with him does not mean merely to throw a robe or blanket loosely over a horse's back, but it means to put a thick covering that buttons or buckles over the chest and far up onto the neck. He grows righteously indignant every time he gets to speaking of people who think their duty done when the back of an animal is protected, while the part containing the lungs, etc.—the most delicate, susceptible part of the horse's anatomy—is left exposed to the pitiless blast.

My doctor is one of the few sensible, consistent men in the world; heaven bless him!

My heart always aches for the thin, neglected animals, many of them without even the pretense of a blanket, that stand for hours shivering in the wind and storm. The man who will button his own warm coat around him and hurry indoors, leaving his helpless servants tied unprotected outside, must have a heart of flint.

One day the humane blacksmith came to Master and told[Pg 18] him he thought something had ought to be done. That he had just found out that a span of horses had stood in an old shed, belonging to a saloon, for two whole days and nights, the week before, with neither food nor water. The owner was on a protracted spree. Dr. Dick was furious. He never shows anger excepting under some such circumstance as this. He immediately wrote two letters, one to the saloon-keeper and the other to the man who had neglected the team, boldly signing his name and warning them not to repeat or be party to such an offence again.

Further than this, between himself and the smith, the sheds and alleys of the little town were closely watched.

Several times in daylight, when Master knew that animals had stood for hours unfed and unwatered, he would send Bob to untie them and bring them to our barn. There they would be rubbed and cared for, then returned to their post; and as fast as our blankets grew shabby he found some poor, shivering beast whose back needed them.

One day while Bob was unhitching a sorry-looking horse that had stood unprotected and uncared for for eight hours in a cold wind, the owner rushed out of the saloon and began a tipsy tirade, threatening to have the youth arrested for horse-stealing if he dared take the creature a foot.

Bob came home to report. Dr. Fred bade him mind his own business and let other people's property alone.

Dr. Dick told him that so long as a man did not abuse his property, he proposed to let it alone; but that when a living creature was being imposed on and abused, that he had a right—a God-given right—to interfere, so long as he did not injure the man or make him poorer.

Fred had been drinking a little himself, and becoming furious, shook his fist in Master's face and called him hard names. The latter, without replying, turned away and bade Bob attend to the work at home. Supposing that he had won the day, Fred strutted off to the house. No sooner was he indoors than Dr. Dick was striding down street, and in ten minutes more the half-frozen subject of the trouble was being rubbed and fed in the stall to the right of mine.

When the animal was finishing her oats the owner came swearing in. Expecting something of the kind, Master was[Pg 19] on hand. I can't begin to tell you all he said to that poor, drunken wretch, but it was a sermon, a temperance lecture, and a humane plea all in one. When the fellow went away he seemed pretty well sobered and ashamed, and even thanked Master for his kindness and promised to use the blanket given and go right straight home.

"Dr. Dick is a queer un," Bob remarked to a neighbor lad to whom he related the incident later. "Most folks let on they hain't no right to meddle with what they call other people's affairs, but I guess it's more 'cause they're too lazy and cowardly. He says he ain't afeard of devil nor man, but is afeard of doin' wrong. Now, ain't he queer?"

"I should snicker!" replied the other emphatically, not looking in the least inclined to do so, though. I suppose it was his way of saying yes.

In spite of all the family could say Dr. Fred sold Ross toward spring. I shall never forget the look of sadness in the poor old fellow's eyes, and the mournful whinny he gave as he turned his head at the barn door and looked back at the empty stall. It happened that the man who bought him came for him when both doctors, the bays and Bob were away. The little boys were playing in the barn.

"It's that 'un," Chet answered, pointing to Ross, so we knew there was no mistake. I called after him as long as I could make him hear.

He said he wished he could die, that there was never a moment that he was not in pain. He had stringhalt, I think, and Dr. Fred said he was getting less worth every day and after awhile would not be fit to travel.

Master said, better put him out of his misery, then, but he belonged to Fred, so that settled it.

Before I forget it, I want to tell of a former mate of Ross that he used to talk about.

His name was Billy. They belonged to a very passionate man, who, when he became excited, would pound them unmercifully. Some little thing went wrong one day, nothing that the team was to blame for, and the man dealt Billy several blows on the head with a linch-pin. He staggered,[Pg 20] and the man, fearing he had killed him, cooled down and quickly brought some water, giving him some to drink and pouring some on his head. This seemed to help him and he worked on all day. Before morning, though, Ross said the animal woke him, but received no answer, only groans and queer sounds. By this time Billy had knocked down the thin partition between their stalls and was dealing him some terrible blows with his heels. He crept as far away as he could and longed for daylight. When it came Billy lay on the floor bruised, exhausted and almost choked from the wrenching of the halter strap.

The owner seemed much frightened when he came out, and at once put a boy on Ross to go for a veterinary. The latter, after an examination, asked if any blow had been given on the head. Shamefacedly the master acknowledged the truth.

"Well," replied the other, "if you got any satisfaction out of it at the time it is all you ever will get. This horse is ruined. There is inflammation of the brain. He may get better, but I think he will have one or two more spells of delirium and then die. It is something similar to mad staggers."

They bled the horse [I am so glad that the barbarous notion of blood-letting is a thing of the past] and put some cloths wet in cold water on his head. He seemed to get better and was put to work again, but a week or so later, while plowing corn in the hot sun, another attack came on, and rearing, he fell backward, narrowly missing crushing his master. When better again, he was taken some distance from home and sold.

Some two years passed and Ross himself had changed hands, when one day as he was standing tied to a post before a country grocery, a weary, shabby-looking horse near him asked if he did not know him.

"But it is," said the other, mournfully, "or what is left of him; I'm pretty well used up."

Then he told how he had passed from hand to hand and something of his bodily sufferings. He had been experimented on by every quack in the country, but each augmented his torture.

"One man," he said, "helped me. He was kind and gentle; never yelled at me (oh, how I wish they knew how noise hurts my head!) and always gave me water every hour through the day, and left it where I could reach it at night. Sometimes cold water throws off a fit. He used to work me early and late in the day, but through the hot part kept me in the shade. He also used cold pads on my head and gave me pills of belladonna, one or two a day, when my head was hot and my eyes red. He sometimes gave aconite, too; and when I had been in the sun, gelseminum was the remedy. I think I might have recovered had he lived, but when I had been there four months he died, and soon I was sold and abused worse than ever. Strange, how we dumb brutes can linger and suffer!"

Dr. Fred soon bought a new horse—a gay fellow, with wicked eyes and a temper to match. His name was Prince. He was a well-built, dark iron-gray about eight years old.

"He's mighty nervous!" commented Bob. "Jest acts as if he expected me to hit or kick him every time I come round him, 'nd jerks his head back if I so much as put my hand on the manger. He's ugly, too, fer he lays his ears back and shows his teeth mighty frequent."

Our stalls were so far apart that we could not talk much, so I knew almost nothing about him until one morning Bob put me in one sleigh for Master and Prince in another for Dr. Fred.

Such a time as the boy had to get that horse hitched up. He would not stand, and was rearing and jerking the whole time.

"Ain't he a beauty?" cried Dr. Fred, proudly. "Most too much of a horse for you to manage, ain't he, Bob? Here, Prince, be quiet, sir!" The animal quieted a little and looked at him.

"See, he minds me. You must use authority in your tone[Pg 22] when—" but the sentence never was finished, for just at that moment the "beauty" reached out and caught his admirer by the shoulder, lifting him off his feet at the first shake.

Then there was a scene! That brute shook his master as a cat would a rat, despite the frantic blows dealt by Fred's left hand and Bob's vigorous fists. Dr. Dick was in the office, but the noise drew him barely in time to see his brother flung a dozen feet or more into a snowdrift.

I am afraid that Master smiled, it seemed so to me, anyway; but he, of course, rushed to the rescue.

No sooner did Fred get on his feet than he flew at that horse with the butt of a riding whip, raining down the blows alike on the face, over the head, anywhere he could strike in his wild anger.

"I'll teach you, you wretch! I'll make you suffer!" and kindred remarks, shot explosively from his mouth.

Master, white to the lips, now interfered, but only conquered by superior muscle, for Fred was crazed with pain and anger. Of course, had he been a horse he would have had to endure ten times as much suffering and injustice quietly, but he was a man and bent on revenge. I do not think Prince did right, indeed he did very wrong, but he had far less than most horses have to endure. Oft-times I had seen Dr. Fred strike Ross or the bays for nothing at all; simply he was out of sorts, so I could not pity him much.

"Don't call the entire neighborhood together," said Master, "you are acting very silly! Go in the house and have Nannie bathe your shoulder, and I will try the new horse awhile. Bob, you may put Dandy back."

After considerable more fuss Fred limped off to the house and Dr. Dick stepped to Prince's head. Back went the latter's ears and his lips quivered. Calmly Master looked him in the eye, then began stroking his face and talking to him. He gradually quieted down, but his glance was both treacherous and distrustful.

CHAPTER V.

This was the beginning of turbulent times between master and servant. When my doctor drove Prince, all went well; but from that morning Fred and he were always in a row. Many a time have I been reluctantly turned over to the elder brother to keep peace and save Prince from a pounding.

On sunny days, as it came on spring, we horses used to be turned into the pasture for a little run; and on one of these occasions Prince spoke of his hatred for his master.

"Well," he answered, "I suppose I am ugly. I never thought so, though, till I came here and saw you and the bays. But it is no wonder. When I was a tiny colt I was badgered and tormented by boys until I learned to use my teeth and heels in self-defence. The harder I fought, the more they teased me. Then when the men came to break me, I was naturally wild and unmanageable; and they yelled and whipped me until I was fairly beside myself with fear. I learned one thing, and that was that by kicking and biting I could conquer some of them.

"Had I been treated with quiet, kind firmness, I might have had a different history. I am not the only otherwise fine horse that has been ruined in the training. Everybody has been hard and cruel with me, and I have just made up my mind to fight it out and die game.

"What's the fun or comfort in living, anyhow? You give your time, strength and life for the little you can eat (when you happen to get that), and if you live past your usefulness you're turned out to starve and freeze. Men are working for themselves and laying by for old age, but we, who work much harder, have nothing but starvation and death in anticipation.

"Where I lived last there was an old horse that had outlived her usefulness. She had raised fifteen sons and daughters, worth none of them less than $800 when four years old, and had scarcely missed a day's work since she was two years old. But we will suppose that she had[Pg 24] worked only three hundred days in the year and put it at the low valuation of fifty cents a day, ought she not to have had something laid by for old age? Well, at thirty-four she was worn out, and master said he couldn't afford to feed a horse that couldn't work, so the hired man led her out in the woods with the gun over his shoulder. He put her in position, stepped off and fired. The ball cut through her cheek and passed on. Frightened and hurt, she turned and tried to run away. He called her, and do you believe it? she was so used to obeying that she turned back and came toward him, stopping when he told her to, even though the gun was again pointed in her face. That time he shot her dead.

Before we went into the barn, Prince admitted that he liked Dr. Dick. "Had I had him for my master I might not have hated and distrusted men so. I am as gentle as a lamb with women and little girls."

In the years since, I have found that the vicious horse with bad habits is universally the one that was spoiled in its early training. I wish people were more patient and could understand that colts need only gentleness and firmness. From my earliest babyhood I was taught by loving hands to wear a halter and be led. I early learned to obey and not to fear. When once we horses learn a thing we almost cannot forget it; then, if we are only taught good things, we are all right.

It had not grown quite warm enough for Grim to go back to his bed on the porch, so he still slept in my manger, when we were startled one night by an unfamiliar step on the barn floor. Stealthily some one flashed a lantern into my stall and a strange hand rested on my back. The next moment Grim had flung himself out of that box and had his teeth fastened in the intruder's leg.

A volley of muttered curses burst from the man's lips as he wildly tried to kick and pound his adversary off. With one blow of my left foot I smashed his lantern all to pieces, and then began neighing as loud as I could, in which the other horses immediately joined.

It seemed an age before Master, closely followed by Bob, came; but I suppose it was only a few minutes.

In the dim light they could just make out two figures rolling about, but Bob's lantern hung right by the door and it was the work of a moment to light it, and of another for Dr. Dick's strong arms to pinion the horse-thief.

Poor Grim was pretty badly gashed up from the pocket-knife in the man's hand, but he had proven himself faithful. The man was soon handed over to justice, the dog being cared for by Dr. Dick and Mrs. Fred. I did not see him again for several weeks, as they removed him at once to the house. I missed him very much, especially nights when the other horses were out.

One circumstance that he told me, among many others, I want to mention. He was speaking of the hardships endured by street-car mules. In the city where he lived they used all mules on the street cars. One day he was riding down town with his master (Ruthie's father) when, through the carelessness of the conductor in neglecting the brakes on the down grade, the car ran right on the poor creatures, cutting them very badly and breaking a leg for each.

That was the first occurrence of the kind I had ever heard of, but very many have come to my knowledge since. Just of late years humane societies are looking for such things a little in our Northern cities, but what is being done along this and other similar lines is but a drop in the bucket, compared to what there is to be done.

That spring Julie became the proud mother of a handsome roan colt, and as it was born on Chet's birthday, it was given to him. He named it Topsy. Chet was all father, hasty, passionate, headstrong, yet a coward withal, who must have a guiding hand to keep him anywhere near the right. This "hand," so far in his life, had been the slender white one of his mother.

Carm, three years younger, was more like the gentle being who gave him birth; naturally refined and good, but, unlike her, easily led and controlled. Could a sad calamity that visited the family the next fall have been averted, how different might have read the story of these lads' lives.

The summer was not particularly eventful, so far as I[Pg 26] could see, but I had a premonition of coming ill. Master seemed dispirited, and frequently told me that life was not worth the living. One morning I was surprised to feel a side-saddle on my back. Master put his face close to mine and whispered words that put me all of a tremble; it was a sad hour. Tenderly Dr. Fred lifted his wife to my back, while Dr. Dick mounted Prince. For the first time I noticed how pale Mrs. Fred was and how worried her husband looked. After that I carried her often for a time, sometimes accompanied by my master, as on the first morning, but more often by Dr. Fred on Julie. He dared not mount Prince.

After awhile the saddle was given up for the single buggy, and then the gentle woman ceased going out at all. It was late one morning before Bob came out to attend to us, and I noticed that he was crying softly.

"She's just been like a mother to me," he burst out at last, "and now she's gone. I'll never have another sech a friend."

I was wild to ask some questions, but of course could only paw and whinny softly until Master came slowly in. The first thing he did was to lean his head down on my shoulder and murmur.

The year following was a dreary irritating one, and yet better than its successors. The boys grew perfectly lawless, save when their uncle Dick spoke. Dr. Fred drank a good deal "to drown trouble," he said. Bob and my master only remained unchanged.

Mrs. Fred had been dead one year and nine days when Fred brought home another wife. She was so different from the first one, and so silly, it seemed to me. I had not forgotten my mistress and I wondered if her husband had. Dr. Dick told me again and again that it was "a perfect shame!" and Bob made faces at her back. Chet and Carm—mimicking their father, tone and all—called her "my dear;" and, when bidden to call her mother, replied that their mother was dead. She became furious before she had been Mrs. Wallace a week. Her husband sided with her,[Pg 27] and there was one continual row. After her "bridish sweetness"—as Bob called it—wore off, she was quite able to hold her own, and either flogged the boys herself, or had Dr. Fred do it, every day. Often, when the latter was intoxicated, my master had to interfere to save the children from being maimed.

All that was evil in those two boys grew and flourished; all that was good withered and, apparently, died. They grew cruel and unjust to us horses, but for all that, I pitied them, especially Carm.

By spring Mrs. Wallace had tormented her husband into the notion of selling out there in K—— and removed to M——, the growing little city from which she came. Further, she turned Bob off, and installed her brother Parker in his place.

We horses used to talk the changes over sorrowfully, and wonder if she would manage anyway to get Dr. Dick out of the way.

"I would stay here and let them go by themselves," the latter said, "but Fred can't get along without me; he is not himself all the time, and I feel so badly for poor Nannie's boys; in fact, I promised her to stay with Fred and do the best I could by him. I'll stick by him. Life is nothing to me anyway, only as I can help some person or thing."

I know he found Bob a good place, but it was a sorry day for us when Park Winters became hired boy at the Wallace stables.

The doctors bought a house in town, but the office was two blocks away. They also bought a farm a mile out, and put a man, named Stringer, on to farm it.

CHAPTER VI.

Before I had been in M—— long I was willing to admit that hitherto I had seen and heard little of the dark side of life for the dumb creation.

The doctors rented stalls for us in a big livery barn, usually trying to keep one or two of us at a time out at the farm on pasture.

At this latter place I learned considerable of the beauties(?) of country life from our standpoint.

The Stringers were average people, ambitious, but erring in judgment. They were thoughtless and ignorant, rather than cruel—intentionally cruel, I mean; but it does not alleviate in the least the pangs of thirst and hunger, the pain of extreme heat and cold, the tiresomeness of long continuance in an uncomfortable position, or the woes of a mother torn from her offspring, to know that carelessness is the cause of the trouble.

I tell you I used to pity even the chickens on that place, and, in conversation with other animals, there and elsewhere, I have found that the Stringers represent the majority of farmers. There are so many what they call "big things," to attend to, that there is no time for either attending to dumb creatures' comforts or stopping the small leaks in the grain sacks.

I am not surprised at all that so many farmers die poor, and so many go fretting through life declaring that farming don't pay. It will never pay the great "Stringer" majority.

Speaking of the chickens, I have seen them trailing their wings through the hot dust, day in and day out, peering everywhere with their anxious little eyes for one drop of water.

On that farm there was only a well, and the water was drawn by means of a pole with a hook on the end of it. It was pretty slow, hard work, so that no animal got all the water it really needed at any time; besides we are just like "other folks," we need to have water where we can drink if we are thirsty, not be obliged to gulp down a lot when we don't want it, simply because we know it is all we will get[Pg 29] for hours. Men feed us things that burn and irritate our stomachs just as salt fish does theirs. They drink when they are thirsty if that is every few minutes, but with an equal longing for water we must wait their convenience, if that is all day.

We are ofttimes sick and feverish, too, just the same as people, but we can't speak, and so we must endure the torture, after being driven furiously through the dust and under a pelting sun.

It is terrible to suffer from a burning thirst, but no worse for a man than for a horse, and no worse for a horse than for a canary bird. We do not suffer always in proportion to our avoirdupois or mental caliber.

Mrs. Stringer was in the habit of shutting hens up, who differed with her on the subject of sitting, in boxes or barrels without food or water, and a good many times she was surprised, after leaving them there three or more days, to find them dead. A terrible death to die, to all but literally burn up with "setting-fever," inward thirst and lack of fresh air.

If I were a man what I am going to say now would be wicked, but I am only a horse. Well, I have often thought that a place I hear men around livery barns speak of, said to be heated by fire and brimstone, will like as not receive many recruits from among ministers and deacons who have neglected to water and shelter their horses and stock here, and among the so-called Christian women who let their chickens, especially setting hens, die of thirst.

People who are so stingy of God's cold water here will know what thirst means in eternity, or I am mistaken. And the hogs on that farm—how they beg (squeal) for something cool and clean to drink.

Somebody, who thinks just as the Stringers did, laughs at the idea of a hog wanting a clear, cool drink. More is the pity! Why, time and again have the poor swine told me that they only drink swill and such stuff because nobody ever offered them anything better. They don't mind having decent swill used to mix their messes with, but they can appreciate a clean drink as well as a man can. I get out of patience, too, hearing so much about the "dirty hog,"[Pg 30] when the poor creature would be clean if he had half a chance. Of course, his ideas of cleanliness differ from a dainty maiden's; he enjoys a mud bath, but he will always take clean mud if he can find it, and he doesn't enjoy wading around in a filthy pen more than you or I would. Is there anything cleaner or prettier than a young pig? Take one and give it decent care and surroundings and it will never disgust you with its filth. The majority of swine are fed on rotten, putrid things, simply because they are swine.

One blessing, the careless owner of either hog or fowl, who allows it to eat that which is unclean, will get it all back second-hand if he eats the creature.

There were not less than a dozen calves in a barren lot on this place, and I used to actually dread my day out there, because of the ceaseless bellowing for water kept up by the helpless creatures.

It was the business of the hired man to fill up a tub over in the lot for their convenience, but there was always "so much to do," and everybody was in "such a hurry" that it was forgotten or neglected more often than it was attended to, and then the owner wondered why his calves were such "scrawny things."

The cows were little better cared for, though they usually got a small allowance of water once a day. They did not begin to give the milk they would, had they been abundantly watered, though, and suffered in proportion. There was one thing that Mrs. Stringer was righteously diligent about and that was salting them. This would have been most commendable had there been drink supplied in connection; as it was, it only augmented their misery.

We horses fared better, because Park was sent out with strict orders to refill our trough with cold water twice a day. Of course, he did not always obey, and I suffered enough, long sweltering days, to make me pity the other creatures that fared worse.

The most trying thing of all would be when, during the day, we—cows, calves and all—could hear the familiar sound of that well-pole as the family drew and appropriated the cooling liquid. It did seem they might understand the bellowing on all sides; but if they did they heeded not.

My master was so busy the first year that he paid little attention to the farm, but the second summer, toward the end, he had a pump put in the well. That worked wonders for awhile, and then they grew as neglectful as ever.

Of course, we did not stay out there much in winter, but were back and forth sometimes. For my part, I wished I might not go at all, but the lecture my master gave Mr. Stringer one evening paid me for being present. It was coming on a cold sleet storm, and his cattle were huddled on the leeward side of the barn, otherwise unprotected. Their piteous lowing could not but attract the attention of a man like Dr. Dick.

"There seems to be a good many boards and pieces of timber going to ruin around here, and there is all the straw decaying in the field where the machine left it. You could have built sheds, and any essential that was lacking we would have provided."

"I tell you, sir, you are mistaken. All domestic animals need shelter, clean bedding and plenty of food. They need it, and it is their right. They furnish you with food and much of the money you have; do they not, in turn, deserve something? Besides you are defrauding yourself when you defraud them. The neglected cow will not begin to do as well in the way of milk and butter as the one that is well cared for. The food she eats must go to keep her from freezing; it acts in the place of fuel, as it were, while if you attended to keeping her warm, it would go to make milk and meat. These are unalterable laws of nature; disregard them and you pay the penalty, not only here but hereafter. God has promised mercy only to the merciful."

We went on, then, for the storm was increasing, but a few days after I noticed that rude sheds were in process of construction, and the straw was being brought in to help in the work.

I am so glad that my master dares to speak his mind, and yet he never does it in a way to offend. Any one can see[Pg 32] that he feels every word that he says, and above all he practices what he preaches.

Speaking of the care of cows reminds me of one that used to hang around the livery stable and pick at the straw that was thrown out from our bedding; and at night, especially very cold ones, she would come and lie on the manure pile. Some of the men said it was for the sake of the little heat in the manure, and they thought she must have a wretched place at home, and be almost starved into the bargain. I watched my chance, and asked her about it. She said her owner was quite well off, but that he looked upon an animal as having no more feeling than a wagon; indeed, that he took better care of the latter than he did of her. That she was hungry all the time, and "oh, so cold." She was not giving milk just then, so they paid no attention to her. She said she had been in the pound twice, and that was dreadful, but she would as soon be there as at home.

I guess the pound man thought she belonged at the livery stable until Park Winters called his attention to the matter, and she was driven off and I never saw her again.

It seems strange that people can sit down to well-filled tables, knowing that their animals are starving; and lie in soft, warm beds, knowing that they are freezing. Master says that for all these things man shall be brought into judgment, but it don't help the dumb creatures now.

CHAPTER VII.

Such a variety of horses as one meets when boarding at a livery stable, and what stories they can tell!

A tough-looking pair of mustangs gave a little of their experience one night. They said they were once wild, roaming over the western prairies at will; but that some Indians caught them with a lasso, and then sold them to a cowboy. The latter named them "Daredevil" and "Wildcat," and began to break them.

"Regularly, as he took us in hand," said Daredevil, "he knocked us each down from ten to fifty times. Why, I used to be just crazy from fright and pain, but he called me vicious, and said he would pound it out of me. Sometimes he would strike me on the head and stun me so that he would think me dead, but he never seemed to care. Had he used us kindly I do not think we would have been hard to manage at all, after the strangeness and fright wore off a little, but such treatment as he gave us brought out all that was bad and wild; I guess it would have made a daredevil and wildcat out of any creature. He did not mind at all if the bit tore our mouths till the blood poured out, or the whip laid open our shoulders and flanks till he could lay his three fingers in; a mustang can stand anything. How frantic we were for release from such torture, and how hard we tried to kill ourselves."

"And then," put in Wildcat, "when he considered us broken, he used to ride us almost to death. Many and many a mile have I run without stopping for breath, with those dreadful spurs pressed deep into my bleeding sides."

"Indeed," said Daredevil, "the wound never healed in mine; it was just tearing a little deeper each day."

Then it seems they were stolen by a half-breed Indian and sold to another white man, who treated them no better. His business was to assist emigrants across the mountains, and he used to overload them and goad them with a sharp pointed staff until they were obliged to move on, some way. They lived this sort of life for three years; then being[Pg 34] almost worthless, he sold them to an Eastern man who was buying up mustangs. They were shipped to Chicago in a close, wretched car, being forty-eight hours at a time without food or water.

"I can give you no idea of the horrors of those days," said Wildcat. "It was just like what burning alive must be, and we all got so ugly that we kicked and bit furiously. Two or three of the weaker ones were trampled to death, but when once the agony was over, they were objects of envy. We all wanted to die. A few became delirious and had to be shot when we were taken out.

"Daredevil and I match so perfectly that we were at once sold together again to a little fellow from Wisconsin. He seemed to think that being mustangs we would require a good deal of abuse and hard work and not much to eat. Anyway he only paid a few dollars apiece for us. I have noticed that the more an animal costs, usually, the better care it receives. This fellow used to pound us till the neighbor women would come out, wringing their hands and crying, and beg him to stop. He would tell them that it was the only way to manage a mustang.

"Desperate at last, Daredevil watched her chance, and planted both her hind feet in the small of his back, one day, and doubled him up. It did me good to see the folks venture gingerly up, expecting us to scalp them, I suppose, and bear him off. He'd knocked us down a good many times, and then without pity kicked us till we got up.

"We were immediately sold to an easy-going individual who worked us very hard, but was decent in his treatment. This was the best place we had had, and we tried to please him. His easy-goingness got him into debt, though, and we had to go for that to the man who now owns us. He is a notion peddler, and well enough when sober, but he is usually drunk. He may start in the morning and drive us till after dark without a drop of water or bite of food."

"There is one thing," said Daredevil, as her mate paused, "if only men knew half as much as they think they do, they would never pound and abuse a mustang pony. There is lots of work and endurance in us, if well treated; and we can appreciate kindness as well as a thoroughbred,[Pg 35] if they will give us time enough to realize it. We have no sort of chance to be good, and the way they treat us would spoil any creature."

There was a little silence after the mustangs had ceased speaking, and then "Jennie," a livery horse, spoke.

"Well, you certainly have had a hard life and probably always will, but if there is any fate to be prayed to be delivered from, it is the fate of a livery horse. We are always on the road. Why, this is the first night I've been in this week, and every sound I hear I think they are coming for me. I have grown so nervous that I can't sleep, and my whole body aches.

"A drummer hired us last week on Wednesday, to drive out to S——, nineteen miles. Said he would be there all day and possibly all night. Do you know he only stopped there about half an hour, gave us—Nellie and I—some water and then drove fifteen miles to L——; there he had us fed and watered, and in an hour was off fourteen miles to K——. It was late when we got there, and by daylight he was on his way here, a good forty miles by the nearest route. We had barely been rubbed and fed, when a young man wanted a team to take his girl to a party ten miles out. The boss, supposing we had been in the barn at S—— all the time since the morning before, only while going the thirty-eight miles there and back, sent us out again.

"It did seem to me when they began to harness us that I should scream right out; how I longed for the power of human speech!

"We acted pretty tired, I suppose, for presently the girl said: 'John, don't drive so fast, the poor horses seem tired.'

"He tied us, dripping with sweat, in an open shed and left us until near morning. Actually we were so stiff we could not seem to get along at all, but he was not sparing of the whip.

"We were in until afternoon some time, and one of the boys used us to carry a couple of women to S——. He rested us an hour and then came home again.

"And so it has been right along, and I am so tired; and then this being driven by every one is ruinous on mouth and nerves. It is jerk, jerk, jerk! and no two mean quite the same thing by the way they twitch the lines, and half of them don't know how to drive anyway."

"Yes," put in Crusoe, another livery horse, "and the worst of it is the spirit people manifest toward us. Why a clergyman had me the other day to go up to B——, and he drove faster than any jockey. On the way he picked up an acquaintance who remarked after a while on his fast driving.

"'Well,' said the minister, 'I always like to get the worth of my money, and I've got three dollars invested in this animal to-day.'"

"Oh me, and how they swear at us!" chimed in a small bay mare from another stall.

"No, I did not quite mean them, though I carried a bishop, or some sort of a big gun, once to the train and we were late. I am inclined to think he swore to himself, though all he said out loud was: 'I could have made that team cover the ground,' but I meant people in general."

"Amen," came softly, but distinctly, from another corner and we all kept silent.

"It seems strange enough to be counted old and only fit to be banged around without this dreadful sightlessness."

"It is inherited. My mother was blind and not of much use but to raise colts, they said. Whether they knew that blind mothers are liable to transmit their misfortune or not I do not know; but the fact remains. I could see all right until I was four years old; when one day, getting pretty warm, a mist seemed to come before my eyes. It remained growing steadily more dense, until at night I was entirely[Pg 37] guided by my mate, and when loosened from him could not even find the familiar watering trough.

"Presently my master examined my eyes and gave it as his opinion that I was stone blind, and I was and have been ever since.

"No words can describe what I suffer. No one has a thought of pity for a blind horse; it is just rush them along! I am so much afraid; everything startles and terrifies me; I am always stepping on stones or bruising myself on stumps and things that I cannot see. I stretch my neck out long to listen, and I am jerked and called an old blind fool!

"It hurts my feelings, too; it is so dreadful to be afflicted and then be taunted with it and scolded about it. Nearly all my brothers and sisters went blind in the same way."

We Wallace horses longed for a barn of our own, where we could have our little family visits once more, and where we should not see and hear so many harrowing things.

Topsy was growing a fine, little animal, but between Chet and Park she was bound to be ruined. These two were never friends, and the latter was, besides, jealous of the young owner. He tried a variety of means to make her nervous and unmanageable, always picking at and tormenting her. He had her so that she would both kick and bite.

Remembering his own unhappy experience, it made Prince furious, and then there would be trouble between him and Park. Of course, the former got the worst of it, because man is the stronger, in the only sense that tells, and the latter would tie him short and then whip him or kick him. Chet had no judgment, and being exceedingly passionate, he whipped the colt for doing what Park taught her.

Meanwhile Mrs. Wallace's sister, Minnie Winters, had become almost a member of the family. She was not very old nor ugly, and professed the most unlimited admiration for "that dear little Dandy," as she gushingly termed me, though why she called me "little" I can't imagine, and I did not like it either. I noticed, though, that she did not make as much fuss over me when my master was not[Pg 38] around. She said a great deal about horseback riding, and hinted strongly that she would like to try my back.

By this he intended her to understand that I had no time to take her out for pleasure. One day Master and I were starting for the country, when some one called him. It just happened that I was tied near an open window inside of which sat Mrs. Wallace and her sister, and I was obliged to hear their conversation.

"Goodness, Fan, do you expect me to throw myself at the man's head? Dick Wallace is a different man from Fred; and not to be so easily won. Indeed, I don't believe he has any notion of marrying."

"Notion of it? Of course he hasn't, but you must put him in the notion. He has a romantic idea that his heart is buried and all that——"

"Oh, do hush, Fan. Somehow I can't bear to think of his having loved any woman like that, and I think Dandy was hers! It all seems like a novel."

"Of course, but if I were in your place I'd be Mrs. Dr. Dick, or know the reason why."

"I know the reason why now," laughed the girl; then growing sober, she added: "I am not good enough for him if he wanted me; few women are."

CHAPTER VIII.

There was a very learned (?) young man—a lately fledged M. D.—who, while spending a few weeks in the town, often sought my master's company. Among other things he, the young man, talked pompously and heartlessly of his love for using the knife.

"I just delight in surgery," he affirmed. "When I first went to college the sight of blood unmanned me, and I was weak enough to shrink from cutting up even a cat; but I soon cut my eye teeth, and now I don't mind anything; would like no better practice than to dissect a live human being."

As Master made no reply and the blood-thirsty young M. D. did not understand, as I do, a certain ominous silence on the former's part, he went airily on:

"I intend to make a specialty of scientific research as soon as I've earned money enough to make it possible. There is very much to be discovered yet, I am convinced. By the way, I suppose you read all the reports of our own and German vivisectionists?"

Strange the young fool blundered right on into the trap, but then he had the "big head"—whatever that is; Master says all young doctors have a spell of it, and that some never fully recover—and thought Master's silence was induced by a feeling of ignorance and inferiority.

"Well," said he, "you know, of course, that chloroform is not used as much as formerly in the practice; our modern scientists are using curare, a drug, you understand, that paralyzes motion while sensibility is unimpaired. It is a great thing. The creature endures the greatest amount of suffering possible under the circumstances, and makes a fine study. I have a few notes here taken from recent reports. I assure you they are worthy of attention. Vivisection is going to prove a boon to suffering humanity."

I knew by the tremor along the reins that Master would be unable to control himself much longer. And then the young man read an extract taken from a book he called "A[Pg 40] Microscopical Study of Changes," that told of the torture of a number of kittens. Some were starved eleven hours and from that on up to seventeen. They were then made mute and motionless by means of this drug, curare, but were acutely conscious. After this stimulation was continued for five hours. In another case the sciatic nerve in various creatures was stimulated with electricity from one-half to seven hours. There was a good deal more telling of the work along this line in various noted universities and medical schools. Speaking of instances where the sciatic nerves of cats are divided and the spinal cord experimented upon in rabbits, it told of their wild shrieks of agony. In dogs the thyroid glands were removed and their consequent sufferings described. A noted Eastern scientist excites inflammation in the eyes of small animals by passing a thread through the corner and applying croton oil, hot irons and the like. Another professor "hobbled" over 140 dogs, and then dashed them from a height of twenty-four feet upon bars and ridges of iron. And so he went on telling of cutting up live animals, even of a horse that was vivisected. At last he was describing, with evident relish, the sufferings of a dog that some New York professor had twisted all out of shape and fastened in a plaster of Paris cast for several weeks, the creature's sufferings being so great that it scarcely took any food at all, when Master burst forth.

Well, I can never begin to tell what he said; his words were like thunderbolts, and the very atmosphere was blue with the lightnings of his righteous wrath. Out of it all I learned that he considered vivisection (cutting up live animals) not only unnecessary to the interests of humanity and science, but a most criminal proceeding. He denounced the vivisection professors as bloodthirsty scoundrels, who, under the pretense of making scientific research, are merely satisfying a bloodthirsty curiosity of their own. He said such men are never public benefactors, that, in truth, they care nothing about alleviating human ills or prolonging life. It is a mania with them to cut, cut, cut, torture, torture, torture. He further said that something must be done to stop vivisection in our common schools and colleges; that ordinary pupils have no need for even lessons in dissecting[Pg 41] dead bodies.[A] Physiology, he said, can be taught all that is needful without recourse to hardening, brutalizing experiments. For his part, when his hour of suffering comes, he said he wanted a physician with a heart as well as head, and he would sooner that a boy or girl, dear to him, would grow up unable to read or write than to be a scholar without feeling and humanity. His conclusion was something like this: "And now, my young friend, pardon me if I have spoken hotly, but I feel deeply on these matters. You, with thousands of other youths, are more sinned against than sinning. You admit that you were tender-hearted when you went away from home influences, and seem ashamed of it. Crush that feeling, my boy; the manly man is always tender-hearted; in other words, God-like. Pity and tenderness are God's own attributes. Further, you will never be a truly successful physician unless your touch is tender as well as firm, unless your heart is as full of sympathy as your head of wisdom. I do not say that there may not be some experiment necessary in medical schools, but none where entire insensibility is not induced. I know what I am talking about, and thousands of our older and better physicians at home and abroad bear me out in this statement."

I guess the young M. D. was glad that Master reined up, at this juncture, before a pretty white cottage; anyway, I noticed that he neither resumed the conversation nor attempted to patronize Master during the remainder of the drive.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] It is exceedingly to be regretted that vivisection is creeping into our common schools and lower institutions of learning. Nothing can be more useless and harmful, and it behooves patrons and school officers to be on the alert. We have enough of bloodshed and anarchy menacing our commonwealth without training our youth to disregard the rights of the helpless and inure them to the shedding of innocent blood.

CHAPTER IX.

That morning my master stopped first at a farmhouse where everything betokened plenty, but not thrift. A man was slopping hogs. The latter were in a small inclosure, wading in mud almost up to their bodies. How hungry they seemed, and how vigorously he dealt blows right and left, with a club he carried!

"Dear me," I thought, "they can never eat it," but they did; that is, some of them. A few of the weaker ones were crowded back and got nothing.

Often in passing that place in winter, I have noticed that in feeding cattle, the fodder was thrown on the ground to be pawed over, stamped in, and the greater part of it wasted. The cattle here were thin-looking in the spring, with apparently no ambition but to find a tree or rail against which to rub. I was not surprised when I heard that that man had mortgaged his farm.

Toward noon of the day first mentioned we drove into a farmyard where a boy unhitched me and turned me into a nice pasture. There were several horses and cows beside. One of the latter ran ceaselessly from side to side of the inclosure, calling piteously. No need to inquire her trouble; one look into her dark, pleading eyes and any one could recognize a sorrowing mother. One of the horses told me that it had been just that way for almost a week; that day and night it was the same. Said he: "She has not eaten a mouthful since her little one disappeared. You see they let it run with her until it was seven or eight weeks old. She was so proud of it; and an uncommonly cunning calf it was. They were always together; but one day some men came and drove it away and she has been almost crazy ever since."

Just then the poor animal passed near us in the endless circuit, and such a look of agony and entreaty as she wore! Presently a man came to the bars; straight she rushed toward him, bellowing piteously. Of course, he passed indifferently[Pg 43] by, and then, turning, she walked to a little clump of trees.

"See!" said my companion; "she will stop under that oak at this corner; there is where she used often to lie with the calf." And sure enough she paused there, smelling the ground over and calling in a low tone; then down on her knees she went, laying the side of her face against the sod and moaning and crying as any human mother would. Oh, it was pitiful, pitiful!

"One has to stand a good deal like that in this world," the big roan said, turning his face away, "and yet people think we dumb creatures have no feeling. I wish we hadn't. A while ago, the family let another cow and calf run together in the same way, and then butchered the little creature right before its mother's eyes. She has never been the same since; doesn't eat, and her milk isn't good. Poisoned with the grief and fretting, but the folks don't understand."

Another day I was grazing in the pasture of one of Master's patients, when I noticed a cow standing in the shade of a tree contentedly chewing her cud.

"A happy looking creature," I remarked to the old family horse, who was quietly grazing away his days.

"Yes," he said, with a smile. And right here let me say horses do smile. "She thinks her calf is over on the other side of that high board fence, in the calf pasture, while in reality it was sold a week ago. You see our master is a merciful man; he separates the mothers from their young almost from the first. For a while he lets the calf through a door in the wall, to its mother, three or four times a day, then twice, and finally not at all; but all the while each is content, because they believe the other is right there. The cow is not worried, and gives down her milk bountifully; the calf is content and thrives. My master is not only merciful, but shrewd."

"Easy, to be sure. He says I have done hard work enough to retire, and have earned money enough for him that he can afford to keep me on the interest of it."

One event of interest, to part at least of the Wallace[Pg 44] family, I have not mentioned. It was when we had been at M—— about a year. Grim had been down street with the boys, and on reaching the gateway of home he fell in a fit. Master and I had just driven up. Mrs. Wallace, from the piazza, gave a cry and began to scream, "Mad dog." Poor Grim, coming out of it, rolled his eyes piteously from one to another. With a desperate struggle he regained his feet and attempted to walk, but his back gave way and before the doctor could reach Grim he lay writhing in another spasm. Mrs. Wallace screamed the louder from a safe place inside the door; and Master, speaking rougher than I ever heard him speak to her before, bade her be still, adding that the poor fellow had been poisoned.

"Bring me a bottle of sweet oil from the office," he commanded Park, "and be quick about it."

Grim was coming out of the fourth fit when the oil came, and among them they managed to pour a gill or so down his throat. He had ever so many more spasms, but finally got better; that is, he did not die then, but never got well; just pined away and finally died.

By this means we became aware that M—— had a cat and dog poisoner; "a man too mean to live and too wicked to die," the neighbors said of him.

Many handsomer and more valuable dogs than dear old Grim fell a victim to his rascality, but few were more sincerely mourned. So officious was this individual that it was nothing uncommon to see little girls bending their curly heads over pet kittens stiff as death, or ladies wringing their hands in agony over the sufferings of some canine or feline pet.

But I have heard say that every town has one man in it so far lost to human decency that he assumes the right to thus torture other people's pets.

Master says there is nothing uncertain about the future of such men. I don't quite know what he means, do you?

Minnie Winters professed to be "not over strong"—these were Mrs. Wallace's words—and the latter frequently asked Dr. Dick to let her sister go with us when we were out for short drives. He could hardly refuse. Of course, I[Pg 45] heard every word of their conversations and noticed how commonplace all the doctor's remarks were, and how adroitly he parried all sentimental or even personal allusion on his companion's part; but nevertheless I was uneasy. I did not think so badly of Minnie, but Mrs. Wallace I believed capable of any treachery.

After a while I remarked that all the men and boys about the livery stable smiled significantly when my master came in; and by and by, when he was out, I heard them saying among themselves that he was going to marry Miss Winters.

Remembering the past as I did, I was sure they were mistaken; but still the way Dr. Fred had done had somewhat shaken my confidence in men. Indeed, I worried not a little, and one day when my master announced that he was going to Chicago for some weeks, I could not decide whether the move meant bad or ill. The last thing before starting he caressed me and whispered loving words in my ear. Surely he could not do that, I thought, if he were untrue.

It seemed a different world to me when he was gone. Mrs. Wallace and her sister used me continually, and I had no idea that women could be such merciless creatures.

They demanded that I trot all the time, up hill and down, and then kept up a continual nagging that made me quite frantic. My mouth was all sore and chafed from the ceaseless jerking and slashing of my back with the lines; and, no matter how strictly I obeyed them, it was all wrong.

Part of the time they rode on my back. The saddle did not fit me, and there was a rough place inside that wore a sore. Nobody noticed this, though; in fact, I was scarcely curried or rubbed at all. Every time the saddle went on my back I grew worse, until one day the pain became unendurable and I ran away.

Think of me, Dandy, running away! I left Miss Minnie in a heap by a roadside, but on I went, that wretched saddle tearing deeper into me every moment.

This seemed to bring me to my senses, and when they yelled, "Whoa," I stopped. I was all of a tremble. They[Pg 46] led me back till they came to Minnie, crying by the roadside and rearranging her hair. At first she refused to get into the saddle again, and I hoped she'd hold out, but she didn't, and I had all I could do to keep from running again, her weight hurt that sore so.

The next day we went again, with Park on Prince for escort. The saddle hurt as badly as before—worse, I guess—and presently, when they undertook a race, the torture was too much, and I reared, throwing my lady off again. Park caught the bridle with a jerk that almost threw me to the ground, and while I was recovering myself he slid from his horse. Tying the latter by the roadside, he removed the saddle, and proceeded to give me the dreadfulest whipping, with the whip he carried.

I had never been really whipped before in my life, and I scarcely know which hurt me the worst, the lash or the injustice and humiliation; probably the lash, though, for it cut mercilessly into the sore.

But the young man was mad, I suppose; anyway he thrashed away until he was tired.

Sobbing hysterically, Minnie wiped the blood from my back with her handkerchief, and refused to mount again. They had a quarrel, but I was too faint and sore to pay much attention.

And to think I could never tell my Master one word about it. That was four days before he came home, and I was not out of the stable again.

Dr. Fred came in the morning after my whipping, examined my back and swore frightfully. Said he'd a notion to horsewhip Park, and promised him his dismissal when Master came home. It all tended to make the fellow ugly, and every one of the Wallace horses have cause to remember those four days. They seemed a veritable reign of terror.

Of course, Dr. Dick visited my stall the first thing. I laid my head on his shoulder and could have cried with relief.[Pg 47] The moment he moved away I would recall him with a whinny, and he finally led me out with his own hands for some water.

That spot on my back was the first thing to catch his eye in the perfect light, but Park was ready with a plausible story about Minnie trying a side-saddle on me "just because I needed exercise," and it rubbed my back.

That was all. I never heard any more about it, except that Master pitied and petted me even more than before. Thinking of the thousands upon thousands of poor creatures that are abused much worse every day, and never receive a kind word or pat, I felt that my lines were cast in pleasant places.

Anyway I never heard any more about Master marrying Miss Winters, and after awhile she went away.

Just prior to this last event, she and Mrs. Wallace drove out with me, and I heard the former say: "I hate Dandy, I believe I am jealous of him."

Such a pretty dapple gray was brought into the barn one night, her back one mass of ridges made by a whip.

"What a shame!" one of the stable men said, "and she's a willing piece of horseflesh too."

"Yes," said another, "but some fellows think it looks big to whip like that; shows their power and importance."

CHAPTER X.

At stated times buyers came down, and people from all through the country brought in their horses, cattle, sheep and hogs. Of course, one set of buyers did not deal in all these, but there were horse buyers, cattle buyers and so on.

When the horse buyers were coming, our barn, and even the sheds outside, used to be full of horses, many of them already sad and homesick.

People may think that dumb animals cannot be homesick, but I tell you they can. All there is of life, for the average domestic creature, is the comfort it takes resting at night in a familiar place, and eating and drinking where it is accustomed. We have few joys, and the future holds no hope. A familiar voice, even though an abusive one, is dear to us.

I have seen dogs cringe and fawn on most inhuman wretches because they acknowledge them as their masters, and so it is, in a less degree, with almost all of us.

Soon after Master came home from Chicago there were an unusual number of horses and men in need of accommodation, and about twenty of the latter slept in the haymow. In the evening they all sat talking overhead, and it so happened that I could hear their conversation.

"I tell you I kinder hate to sell them there black ponies o' mine," said one. "I've raised them from colts, and I think a heap of 'em, but I've got to have money to raise that mortgage, and it's the only way."

"Jest the way I feel about them there bays 'o mine," put in another, "and I can't help fearin' they will fall into hard hands."

"It is kinder rough," said number three, "to think of fetchin' 'em right away from their homes where they been fer so long, 'nd turnin' 'em out amongst perfect strangers to be taken, land only knows where. How would we feel if it were us or our children?"

"Don't ye fool yerself, Billy, they do. I raised a fine colt[Pg 49] onct, kept her till she was nine years old, then sold her to a man twenty miles away. He came for her, 'nd when he went to take her she seemed to know she wasn't jist lent or hired, and such mournful whinnying I never heard before nor since. She was always such a willing creature, but then she pulled back and all but balked. My, how the children cried 'nd took on! I felt myself as if I'd committed a crime. Well, do you think when I got up in the morning that creature was back in her old stall, tired and muddy, but jest as happy! She had traveled the forty miles and was home again.

"The next day the man came again. She resisted and plead harder than ever, but of course he took her. He shut her in safely that time. Six months after he was driving by our place when she set up sech a neighing, and, despite his best efforts, she turned in at the gate. I went out and she acted so tickled. I persuaded him to stop to dinner, and I assure you she was bountifully cared for in her old stall.

"She again left reluctantly. Three or four months later, she got out of her pasture and came home. Five years after she came again; and the queerest thing was, she hadn't forgotten us a bit. It always makes me blue to think what she had suffered from pure homesickness in those years."

"That 'minds me," said another man, "of a big gray horse my daughter used to own. She sold sewing machines, and drove the animal nearly every day for two or three years; then she sold him.

"It was, maybe, two years after that, that she was crossing a pasture one day, when she saw a big gray horse making swiftly towards her. It scared her a bit at first, but when he neighed she knew it was old Jim. Would you believe he came straight to her, and laid his head on her shoulder? If that ain't memory and affection for ye, what is it?"

"Yes, 'nd the wonder is that folks ain't better to 'em than they be. They get mighty rough used some times. I knew a man down East; he purtended to be a sort of a preacher, too, that used to pound his horses fer just what was his own fault. One day he overloaded 'em, 'nd because they couldn't pull up a steep place he got back of 'em 'nd jabbed 'em with the tines o' a pitchfork till the blood jest trickled down. At[Pg 50] another time he got mad at one of 'em, 'nd, taking her out of the harness, beat her till he knocked her down, then he hitched the other horse to her and made him drag her all over a stony, rough pasture. When the neighbors see him, the trail her body made was marked with blood. There was a fuss, but he let 'em know he'd do as he pleased with his own. Her side was all tore to pieces, 'nd, after sufferin' a while, she died."

"I see a fellow jest last week," put in another, "knock his horse down; then, because she couldn't get up, he kicked an eye out."

"Mercy on us!" cried the first speaker, "if I thought them 'ere black ponies of mine would ever fall into such hands, I'd take 'em home 'nd let the blamed mortgage foreclose."

"Well, I'm sellin'," said still another, "because I'm afraid my horse is getting the poll evil, 'nd I've had one trial of that."

"Well, I'd like to see it done," said the other. "I tried everything far and near, 'nd she jest got worse. Some of the things jest made her crazy. Onct she started and walked a dozen miles before she knew what she was doin', I guess, poor thing!"

"Well, you see, poll evil generally comes from a blow on the head, or from the wearin' of a heavy bridle, and if taken in time, and the cause removed, the treatment ain't much, just rubbin' in arnica. But if matter forms, then something else has to be done. I, fer one, don't believe in a raw hand choppin' into horseflesh no more'n human flesh. Get somebody that's used to the business to cut open the hard swellin' 'nd put in lint saterated in glycerine, calendula 'nd water. Put iled silk over this 'nd fix a linen hood over, leavin' places fer the ears. Tie it under the throat, and wet it three or four times a day with the same stuff ye put in the opening. If the lump gets soft, the doctor kin open it 'nd let the stuff out, cleanin' it all out careful. Sometimes they say it ain't safe to open 'em, 'nd they inject weak sulphate of zinc—ounce a day. When the matter gets thick 'nd white[Pg 51] it's better to inject the glycerine, calendula and water again. The animal needs care 'nd tonin' up."

"There is getting to be less poll evil than there used to be," some one remarked.

"Yes, since new barns with high doors have taken the place of the old, low log stables; and we use lighter bridles."

It was with a heavy heart that I saw the poor horses hurried off in the morning, but it made me feel better toward men that some of the owners looked sad and gave a kindly parting pat.

Master had to make an early trip, and it so happened that we were passing the depot when the poor creatures were being driven into the car. Strange surroundings, strange voices, strange everything! I thought of the story the mustangs told, and wondered if these horses would fare better or worse.

Presently we overtook a pedestrian, and Master invited him to ride. I soon discovered that the latter's mind was full of the same subject that filled mine.

"I tell you, Martin, I wish there were mercy shown the dumb beasts. Of course, we have to buy and sell and all that, but things are at a fearful pass, especially on railroads and in large cities. I never realized it as I did while I was in Chicago a few weeks ago, and the scenes I saw there have haunted me ever since.

"Carload after carload of wretched-looking cattle were brought to the stock yards, having come thousands of miles, some of them without one drop of water. It turned me faint, used as I am to suffering, to see the piteous pleading in their sunken, frightened eyes. Great heavens, it was a sight to remember!

"And then the way they unloaded them! There were thousands of them, and people were in a hurry. The poor beasts, weak and terrified as they were, did their best to obey the rough, unintelligible orders, but assistance (?) was inhumanly rendered by the men using heavy poles with great iron spikes in the end. Prod, prod, prod! time and again the cruel iron pierced the hide and buried itself in their quivering flesh. The air was full of the cries and moans of fright and pain. Many were hauled out dead or[Pg 52] dying. Something of what they endured may be conceived when one witnesses their frantic greed for water. It is terrible to think of the torturing thirst that had lasted for days.

"I tell you, man, there's a day of reckoning coming when men will cry unto the mountains and hills to fall on them and hide them."

"Well, I suppose it saves time and trouble, but the main reason is greed. They starve them for water, then give them a chance to drink all they want just before they are weighed, thus increasing their weight dishonestly. Then, when Saturday night comes, the water is shut off, and the poor animals in the stockyards get no more until Monday; and of all dreary, hot, dusty places on earth those stockyards take the lead.

"But the worst of all is the cruelties of the slaughter houses. Hundreds of cattle crowded around awaiting their turn to be butchered, and gazing with staring eyes at their mates' bloody fate. You know how the smell of blood terrifies such creatures. Their whole systems are doubtless poisoned with the agony. Such meat cannot be healthy.

"Now there could be humane means devised for all these proceedings if only men cared."

CHAPTER XI.

One autumn Master determined to "go West." Why he went I do not know, but he was to stay "some months," they said. How I did hope he would take me along, but he did not.

"Be kind to Dandy," was his parting injunction, as usual, to Herman, the man who had succeeded Park Winters as hostler.

Of course, I did not know what going West means, and could not think that "some months" were longer than the time he had spent in Chicago.

The morning he started he came into my stall and talked to me a long while. Among other things he said: "Be a good boy, Dandy, and when I come home we'll go and live at the farm—you and I."

I did miss him so! The days were all dreary, and I dreaded to go to sleep at night, because I would be obliged to awake to a fresh sense of my loss.

I cannot begin to give all my experience during his absence, but will note a few instances. Of a truth, I realized as never before what it is to be a horse.

Dr. and Mrs. Wallace were not a happy couple. The latter was less outspoken than in the early days of her married life, but she was equally as self-willed, only more cunning and underhanded about it. Fred drank all the time, but people could not ordinarily tell when he was intoxicated. The barn boys said he could "carry a good deal."

The two boys, Chet and Carm, were wild and lawless. The former was smart and a great student, though. Poor Carm, better but weaker, was always in disgrace. His teacher and father called him a "numbskull," and gradually the latter came to indulge Chet in everything and deny Carm just as prodigally.

There were two other children in the house now—Tommy and Elizabeth, or "Bobby," as the little girl called herself, and others fell into the habit.

I liked Bobby from the time Master first held the little yellow-haired creature on my back, for a ride; and she always[Pg 54] clapped her little hands on seeing me, and cried, "Dandy! Dandy!"

I liked her for herself, and also because Dr. Dick loved her. It did me good to know that he had this little child to pet and think about.

Things went well enough for a week or so after Master left, then Chet began to drive me.

Sometimes when the doctor would use me for a long drive in the day, soon after dark, while I was yet eating my supper, the boy, with some companion, would come into the barn and put my harness on. Herman would object, and there would be a fuss between them, always ending in my being hitched in a buggy or road-cart and driven out.

It was the second time that this occurred that I discovered that Chet was under the influence of liquor, as was also his companion, and they carried bottles with them. Chet used the whip freely, and I went as fast as I could; but the oftener they touched those bottles the harder they drove. After what seemed to me hours of agony, they pulled up before a brilliantly lighted old building out in the country, hitched me and staggered in.

The wind was raw and cold, and the sweat pouring off me. I surely thought Chet would remember my blanket, but he didn't, and there I had to stand one, two, three, four or more dreadful hours. Long before they came out I was alternately chilling and burning. I ached and trembled.

They drove home as fast as they came, whipping nearly all the way, though I was doing my best.

Herman swore profusely (people did not do that around the barn when Master was home) as he rubbed me down rapidly with a coarse cloth before blanketing me closely.

And thirsty—it did seem I must have water or choke, but he gave me none for some reason.

By morning I was so stiff I could scarcely move, my breath was short and came hard, and my skin was hot.

"I don't think Dandy is able to go out, sir, to-day," Herman replied. "The young gentlemen had him out all night almost, and he is all stiffened up."

Dr. Fred muttered something and ordered out the bays, calling out to Herman, as he drove off, to get Dr. Dick's box of horse medicine and give me aconite—two-drop doses of the tincture every two hours—until the fever was gone; then to alternate bryonia, and thus according to directions given in the book with the box.

I noticed that I began to feel better pretty soon, and by afternoon Mrs. Wallace said she wanted me hitched up. Herman demurred, but had to finally give in. I was as stiff as ever when I got home again.

That very night Chet harnessed me again, despite Herman's angry protest, and drove me ten miles. If only he had taken the trouble to look in my eyes, I am sure he must have seen how wretched I felt. This time he carelessly threw a blanket over me, but did not buckle it over my chest, and in a little while the wind had blown it half off me. It would have been entirely off—and it might as well have been—but for a corner catching on the top of the collar. That time gray was showing in the east before he started for home.

With vile, profane words he bade me "Get up," emphasizing by stinging blows of the whip, saying to his companion that he must make the ten miles before his father was up.

I suppose no man was ever compelled to stand tied to a post all night; if there had, he would surely be going up and down the earth preaching mercy and justice to those who have the power over horses.

Another thing that made that night especially wearing was the fact that I was tied short, and my front feet were much lower than my back ones. Such a strain as I was on!

It does seem that horses deserve the little consideration necessary to tie them in a decent spot. I have heard many of my kind speak of this matter. In some villages the hitching places along the sidewalks are most uncomfortable, the animals being obliged to stand on a twist, ofttimes with the front feet lower and in a mud puddle.

Is it any wonder we sometimes protest by vigorously pawing the sidewalks, if we can reach them?

Well, I was too lame to get out at all, after that night, for[Pg 56] a week. I had rheumatism. Had Master been there to treat me, I might have recovered, but Herman knew nothing about horse-doctoring, and so it ran on. If I did get a little better, it was only to be overdriven and exposed. Another time there was to be a horse-race five miles off, and Chet drove Prince and I in the buggy.

Then I found out how it hurts a heavy-bodied, short-legged horse to be driven with a light-bodied, long-limbed one. He drove, as usual, just as fast as he could make us go, uphill and down the same. More than once I thought I should fall, and by the time he stopped I was whiter than even nature intended me to be, being covered with foam.

Prince was not nearly so tired, but he said it irritated and fretted him to be driven with a horse of my build.

It was only a little country horse-race, and the animals were chiefly working ones with neither inclination, strength nor training for the race-track.

After a while three men got on their horses' backs and started. The crowd yelled and clapped their hands; the riders buried the cruel spurs in the horses' sides, and leaned as far forward as possible.

Of course, some one had to beat, and it was a long-legged, bony creature that won the first heat.

Three times the same ones ran, and twice the long-legged one won, but the others had done their best; yes, more than that, I may say.

Poor things! there they stood, sweat and blood covering their sides, every nerve and muscle overstrained, and their masters cursing them for their defeat. The entire afternoon was consumed in this manner. Among others Prince was taken on the track. I knew by his eye, and the poise of his head he did not like it, but he behaved nicely until a cruel-looking fellow got on his back and dug the rowels in; with one bound he was off, and the rider had hard work to keep his seat. He won the heat, and I was scarcely enjoying his victory when, quick as a flash, he reached out and catching the fellow by the shoulder flung him headlong some feet away.

Some one caught the bridle strap, and, as soon as the fellow could pick himself up, he flew at the offender, dealing him a blow between the eyes with a club chancing to be handy.

"Hold on!" Chet cried, but another, and another blow followed. My noble gray friend staggered, gathered up, staggered again, then fell. A half-dozen convulsive shivers passed over his frame and he was dead.

In a fury of anger and terror the young master sprang upon Prince's slayer. They grappled, but strong hands separated them, and Chet had only to put my harness in the buggy, get on my back and ride sorrowfully homeward.

Dr. Fred was in a temper, to be sure, and immediately had an officer after the man who had killed his horse.

All night and, for many nights, I could not close my eyes without seeming to see poor Prince in the death-throes, and all because he dared to resent unfair treatment. I heard Herman say that the fellow had paid for the horse, that Chet and his father had had a quarrel, and that Mrs. Wallace insisted on the former leaving home.

"Yes, she's mighty keen fer the first woman's boys to leave home," remarked an old man who worked around the barn. "She's wantin' 'em out of the way so her young uns 'll git the property."

"Guess there won't be enough to fight over if Dr. Dick stays away long," Herman replied.

Speaking of horse-races reminds me to say that if all race-horses, or those that are made to run, could tell their stories they would fill volumes with tales of injustice and suffering. All animals will, if humanely treated, do their best for their masters; but a kind word and reassuring pat will go much further toward winning a race than all the spurs and curses in the world.

I remember of being at a State fair with my master some years later, and witnessing a race. Among the competitors was a handsome little black horse, all grit and goodness,[Pg 58] but, owing to its owner being partly intoxicated, it lost the stake, in consequence incurring his wrath. And how he did pound the noble little beast!

A number of disapprovals arose from the multitude, but no one ventured to interfere.

CHAPTER XII.

I had no idea before that year's experience that little things—at least what men call little things—could so affect the health and spirits of a horse. I had even felt a little scornful sometimes when I saw strong-looking animals go along with drooping heads, and noticed how dull and stupid they looked.

But when I came to endure hardships and have no petting (though Herman was better to me than most men are to their own horses) I felt differently about it.

Chet did not take me out after Prince's tragic death for some time, but Dr. Fred drove me a great deal, as there was only the bays and myself then.

Topsy had had no regular breaking yet, but Chet declared his intention of attending to the matter at once.

When he did undertake it he frightened the poor thing almost to death, and what the outcome would have been I can only surmise, had not a humane man noticed him one day and chided him for his method, or rather lack of method. "Let me show you my way," he said. I suppose Chet was getting tired of the job, so surrendered.

From being always handled, Topsy was all right, so long as no harness was introduced, or any unusual noise made near her; but at the first unfamiliar sight or sound she was a bunch of terrified, prancing nerves, expecting the worst, and usually getting it, in the form of a whipping.

"Well, my boy," said the gentleman, "I suppose it is[Pg 59] necessary for a horse to know it has a master, but it is equally necessary for us to recognize that they have rights, and also that bullying an animal is not being, in a manly sense, its master. Now I have broken scores of horses, and never yet whipped but one, and I have always hated myself for doing that."

Then he began to gently rub Topsy's head and neck with his hands, and later with a brush. She seemed to enjoy this, and when he let the latter gradually pass over her shoulders and back, she offered no resistance.

He worked with her fifteen minutes or longer, then turned her into the little enclosure she occupied during the day. I think I neglected to say I was resting out at the farm for a day or two when this occurred.

In two or three hours the man came again, and repeated the handling and brushing, only this time he touched the whole body, talking kindly and reassuring all the while.

"I should imagine a little time apparently wasted in the beginning less loss than a fine horse ruined in the end," the old man quietly answered.

When he let the young mare go that time she seemed slow to leave him, though he had brushed her even to her heels.

The next time he handled her with greater freedom, brushing and talking and finally showing her a little sack of straw. She eyed it awhile, smelled it and then seemed not to care for it. The man now began to rub her with this, gradually increasing the noise it made. Of course, she was a little shy of this, and inclined to go away. A few gentle touches of the brush reassured her. Then he put a halter on her. She had often worn one before. After this he applied the straw again, stopping every little while to brush and smoothe her. In a little time she paid no attention either to the noise or the touch of the sack.

The next day he gave her four lessons of similar character. Later he rattled tin cans and the like about her from head to heels, and had small boys blow tin horns in all directions.

Topsy told me afterwards that so long as she could hear that man's voice or feel his touch, she was not afraid of anything.

Like all horses, she objected to the bit, and I fancy people would make more fuss than we do, if they had to wear it. It was the first night that Topsy was at the livery barn after her "breaking," and she was saying she minded the bit worst of all.

"For years," she said, "my tongue has been in a measure paralyzed. It always hangs out of my mouth when the bit is in, and I can't help it. Sometimes it is more helpless than others and I almost starve. I get better at times where some one owns me who puts a bit in my mouth that don't hurt; but I am getting used up anyway, and change hands often, and the majority of bits makes the trouble worse."

"I was once troubled that way," spoke up another horse, "and my master kept changing bits until he got one that was all right and then I got over it."

"I, too, had a paralyzed tongue," said another, "but it was not the bit, it was genuine paralysis—might have been caused by that in the first place, though I never thought of it. Anyway they applied electricity to the nerves and gave me some medicine three times a day—'strychnia,' they called it, one-hundredth of a grain at a dose. I soon got well."

"My tongue was all torn to pieces once with a frosty bit," put in another. "And how I did suffer! No one noticed it until it was all ulcerated, and I could not eat and scarcely drink. My master was one of those careless fellows who never examines his horse, and seems to forget that, however much they suffer, they can't speak for themselves.

"He did not know what to do for me and so sent for a neighbor, who told him to use alum wash until the ulcers were all gone, and leave the bit out until my mouth got well, meanwhile feeding me soft food."

And still another spoke of her teeth becoming long and rough, and lacerating her tongue badly. She said they filed[Pg 61] the teeth and wet her tongue and mouth with a lotion made of calendula and water.

Topsy was a beauty in harness, and Chet was proud of her in his way, but from the first I feared hers would be a hard life, but my darkest forebodings came short of the dread reality.

Master had been exceedingly particular always about my feet, but Herman was like a majority of other men; knew nothing of the business himself and trusted entirely to the smith, who chanced to be a new one.

I had often heard Master and the good blacksmith in the old home denounce the fashion of trimming the frog and thinning the sole until it yielded to the pressure of the thumb, and that was just what this smith did. And then he put on great, heavy shoes, driving in spikes rather than nails.

I admit that I kicked and plunged, but it was all wrong, and I knew it; then the last spike went through into the foot. This made me rear and plunge worse than ever, and the blacksmith struck me with the hammer.

"See here, Dr. Dick Wallace won't stand that," cried Herman. "He allows no man to strike Dandy."

Well, I got out of there at last, but my foot hurt intolerably, and I limped. Herman spoke of it to Dr. Fred, but the latter was in one of his gruff moods, and only answered:

That night a man came for a doctor in great haste; some one had taken poison by mistake. Dandy was ordered.

If I could have spoken, how soon I would have convinced Herman that, with that terrible torture in my foot, I could not go, but I could only mutely look at him, and he, half asleep, paid no attention. It was a good many miles we went, and the doctor drove like mad. It seemed to me that running through fire would have been easy compared with the pain in my foot, aggravated by the ceaseless concussion of the hard roads.

With a blanket thrown over me, I was left tied in a shed. How I longed to lie down on something! All I could do was to hold up that leg. The pains extended clear into my shoulders, and the cords of my neck were growing stiff.

After a long time, a man came out and unhitched me from the road cart. The moment I was free I lay down. Directly the man ran and brought Dr. Fred. They bade me get up, and, rather than to disobey, I tried it, but the moment I threw any weight on that foot had to immediately lay down again.

Presently the man noticed me holding that foot, and asked if I was not newly shod. Then Dr. Fred remembered.

I got on my feet, but had to hold that one up for awhile. Gradually I compelled myself to put it down, for I knew we must go, as he had said.

That was long years ago, but even now I can feel some of the agony of that slow journey.

He went with Herman and me to the shop, and fiercely ordered that shoe removed. The smith was not nearly so independent then. When the doctor saw the heavy thing he raved more than ever.

The result was that all the shoes came off, and I was put in my stall till my feet got well.

"An ounce at the toe means a pound at the withers," quoted the old stable man. "And there's truth in it; glad the doctor had sense enough to refuse them."

It was four weeks before I could be shod again, and in the meantime I had a very sore foot. They gave me aconite to keep down my fever, and used arnica on my foot after paring away the horn and poulticing until suppuration ceased. My one thought was: "Will Master never come home?"

And so the winter and spring passed. "Several months," I thought as much! My experience was pretty much the same right through, but I felt years older when once again I rested my head on my beloved Master's shoulder.

There was a new stable boy when he came back; Paddy,[Pg 63] they called him. Dr. Fred and Herman had quarreled some time before.

The old stable man privately told Master of some of my hardships, and with tears in his eyes, the latter whispered: "Forgive me, Dandy."

CHAPTER XIII.

One morning while waiting for Master to finish talking with a man, we heard a scream, and the next moment Bobby came rushing out, crying:

"Uncle Dick! Uncle Dick! come! come! Tommy has stalded my little kitten all dead; hurry! hurry!"

With two bounds her uncle cleared the space between himself and the door and disappeared for a moment, to appear again in the kitchen, the window of which was open.

Plainly I could see the dripping kitten rushing frantically about the room, and Mrs. Wallace flourishing the broom at it as if it were the offender.

Tommy complacently looked on. By the stove stood the pail of hot water into which he had dipped it.

Quickly Master put the kitten in cold water, then, drying it, gave a brief order.

Reluctantly Mrs. Wallace brought a bottle from somewhere, and he carefully worked some of the contents through the fur on the skin.

Mrs. Wallace's face wore a sneer, but Bobby's, sweat and tear-stained, turned confidingly up to his.

And then the good man's indignation got the better of his chivalry, and he gave "My lady" a lecture that greatly offended her.

"As you sow, so you must reap. You may see the time that you will remember this little burned kitten. I would not be a prophet of evil, nevertheless, I say the hand that ruthlessly puts a pet to such torture as this to-day may in in the future as readily slay a fellow man."

Very often after his return did I hear Master speaking of things he had seen in the "West," and while, like other men, he spoke often of the country and people, unlike them, he told of the dumb creation.

"You're a regular crank, Dick," Fred would say, "soft-hearted as a baby;" but then he would pat him on the shoulder, and I know that there has always been a tender reverence in his heart for this noble brother.

To me they were wonderful stories, those about the horses of the plains and the cattle of the ranches.

"Seeing is believing," Master said. "I went there in the fall when the creatures were in good condition, and watched every phase of their existence until they—or their survivors—were in the same condition again; but what they endured meanwhile no earthly computation could estimate; I doubt not the record is being all kept straight above.

"I made my headquarters with an old friend and schoolmate—one of the most humane ranchmen on the plains, I presume. I told him I wanted no varnish, but reality; and he said I should have it.

"He owns a large ranch, his nearest neighbor being eighteen miles distant. There is, in the clearing, the usual ranch-house, stables, sheds, horse corral and the like.

"Their horses all come from the wild ones, and a few of them become truly tame. My friend has one—old Mark—who follows him like a dog, and obeys him as readily as Dandy does me, but he is an exception. Sometimes those not in use wander off and are gone for months. When they find them they are as wild almost as ever, and have to be broken all over again. And this breaking was one of the things that seemed so inhuman to me, but you would not believe flesh and blood could stand what they do anyway, and live. And such looking creatures! apparently nothing but skin and muscle, and so hardy that men grow naturally, I suppose, to think they have no feeling. But to me they presented a piteous picture of dumb faithfulness and brute misery. Despite their hardiness, they are as capable of suffering as the man who rides them. Of course, old Mark can[Pg 65] endure more hardships than Dandy, just as his master can endure more than I, but that does not alter the fact that we can all be overworked, abused and suffering.

"Immediately after breakfast the men on my friend's ranch gather the horses into the corral. In the centre is what they call the snubbing-post; here the men stand with ropes, and, as the animals race around the corral, they lasso the ones they want to use that day, and then the rest are turned loose again. Some of them get quite tame. I told Charley that if I were a ranchman I would have them every one obedient to my voice. He assured me that—as a rule—it ain't bronco nature.

"He had a professional breaker—'bronco busters,' they call them—break a few new horses while I was there, but I only watched the operation twice; that was quite enough for me. These 'busters' get big-wages, for their work is extremely dangerous, and they are always in such a hurry that what they do is done in the quickest way, which is generally the roughest.

"Time and again they jerk the poor creatures up, causing them to turn complete somersaults, and sometimes breaking their necks, of course. Then, by the roughest of main force, they saddle and mount them. True to his nature and common instinct for self-preservation, the animal bucks, doing his best to unseat his rider. This he rarely succeeds in accomplishing, and at the end of an hour or two he is submissive through sheer fatigue and pain. Three of these lessons are deemed sufficient. Horses broken by more mild, humane means—even ranchmen allow—make quieter, better servants. Then there is the branding of the ponies, without which the owners could not tell their own property. In accomplishing this, the animal is blindfolded and led up to a roaring fire, where a man with a red-hot branding iron awaits him. Quick as a flash, there is a sickening odor of burning hair and flesh, and the frantic animal goes forth with his owner's initials, mark or whatever it may be, indelibly branded on him.

"These horses can climb like a mountain goat, and in winter they subsist on the bark of the cottonwood tree, or on the dead grass that they paw down through the snowdrifts[Pg 66] to reach. Ofttimes their hoofs are worn to the quick, and blood marks their trail. Spring finds them mere shadows, and so weak they can hardly walk. They endure hardships better than the cattle do, though. These last lead woeful lives in the winter season.

"I did not get there for the fall 'round-up,' as they call the gathering together of the herds; but when I did see them they were sleek and contented looking. Soon after, Charley and his men moved theirs into the broken lands, where there is some chance for shelter and a bare chance for their subsisting on the natural hay that abounds there.

"The past winter has not been a severe one, yet more than half of his cattle perished. Some grew so weak and stupid that they ceased to paw up the frozen grass; some, very many, in fact, perished in ice-storms. Their coats become as cakes of ice, and they die by inches. Some die for want of water, some mired in the spring in their frantic rush for it, and so on. Wherever one goes after the snow melts, the sight that meets their eyes is dead carcases.

"The hardened beholder thinks only of the loss to the owner, but to the uninitiated, each gaunt form, with his sunken eyeballs and worn hoofs, tells a pathetic tale, and reminds them of the lingering tragedies that have been enacted there.

"Pitiful enough look the forms of brute mothers, lying in a way to show that they defended and sheltered their helpless young to the last. But, looking along the lines of dead, I almost decided that their fate was preferable to that of the survivors who must yet face the living death of the cattle car, and finally be inhumanly butchered. At best the lives of these creatures are full of pain and misery.

"Another harrowing scene is the branding of the calves and young cattle at the May 'round-up.' I witnessed it for an hour and then turned away, but I could not shut the terrible din out.

"The ordinary method is to corral a large number of cattle, and then rope the calves and unbranded animals, drag them to the fire and proceed as in case of the horse.

"Then there are calls, oaths, coarse laughter, bellowings, moans and cries of pain and fright, making wildest discord.

"I pitied the poor little calves most. They are generally caught by the leg, or legs, and jerked rudely over the ground to the branding place. Here two or more other men grab them and hold them down while the cruel deed is done. The little things seem so terribly frightened and helpless. The little while I watched, I saw several of the older animals badly burned on their shoulders and faces. These were mothers who charged in defence of their young; then the hot iron struck one steer in the eye, completely destroying it. The men scarcely notice such a happening, but I could not forget the suffering. I would rather earn my bread far down in the mines than by trafficking in flesh and blood.

"In the spring all the stock is reduced; I may say they are barely alive, but when the rains come and fresh grass springs up they pick up rapidly."

Thus would my master talk until it seemed to me that we were pretty highly favored, but there has never been a winter since but I have thought often about the starving, freezing herds "out West."

CHAPTER XIV.

Chet drove Topsy a great deal; "too much for so young a horse," the old stableman said.

One day when he brought her in, her back was a perfect network of welts, raised by his cruel whip.

The poor young thing hung her head pitifully. "I thought I was doing all right, but he jerked the lines this way and that, until I became so nervous I did not know what to do, and finally stumbled. With that he stood right up in the cart and whipped me. It seemed every blow cut in half an inch. I reared and plunged to escape the lash, but he kept on till I got quiet through sheer exhaustion. Oh, me! I wish I were dead; men have the power, and they are so cruel."

Another time he drove her until she was dripping with sweat, then led her into a spring of cold water and dashed it all over her.

Every one about the stables said it would kill her, but she got along with only a severe cold.

Carm drove Topsy then, but she said he was never abusive, only sometimes forgetful.

After Chet had been gone a few months there came a letter from him that made a deal of trouble in the house. What it was about I cannot really say, but Master announced to me one morning that we were going to live at the farm.

A man and his wife by the name of Pell ran the farm now, and a breezy, young English couple they were. She especially pleased me with her sunny ways and funny pronunciation.

She fixed Master's rooms up "'omelike," she called it, and was always tucking posies in my bridle, or feeding me with sweet cakes.

I thought she would cheer Master up if anybody could, but though he smiled often he grew quickly thoughtful again. Plenty of people came for him, and after a while he bought another horse named Dexter. I knew he owned John and Jean just as much as Fred did, but I suppose he thought best to leave them where they were.

After a while Queen and Julie were sent out. I wondered at first, until they told me they were worn out and had been sent out to pick up.

"I know what it means," said Julie. "We are to be patched up and sold. We've served him (Dr. Fred) until we are used up; now we'll go to the first bidder."

It proved true, and in two weeks a rough-looking man drove them away. Several years after, while waiting at a gateway for Master, I noticed something familiar-looking about an old horse attached to the separator of a threshing machine.

I could not place her at first, but as they came nearer I saw it was Julie, or what might be her walking skeleton. I spoke to her as she was stopped near me.

I asked her about herself and Queen. "It is a common story," she said. "Queen was run to death one night by some wild boys. First she fell down, but they pounded her till she got up; she staggered on a little further and fell again, the blood gushing from nose and mouth. They left her there, and in the morning she was dead.

Just then the man belonging on the separator came up, and with an oath bade her hold up her head.

She gave me a sad, hopeless glance as she tried to obey. The machine was set not far off, and as Master was a long time in the house, I had an opportunity to watch Julie and her mates—all thin, half-dead-looking creatures.

The man on the horse-power shrieked, cursed and slashed right and left with his long whip. On Julie and an old blind horse it seemed to me it fell most often, though.

After a long, dizzy run, during which the poor creatures[Pg 70] staggered more than once, they stopped, and, without the slightest cause for so doing, the driver went around and kicked Julie a number of times. I have found by observation that this is the usual way with the world.

Young horses may receive some care and consideration, but, as soon as they begin to fail, they are neglected or sold, and by old age their condition is pitiful.

I wonder if the money Dr. Fred got for the bays will prove of sufficient good to him here to offset the record of misery he will have to face some day up there!

We had a nice time at the farm. Dexter and I had plenty to do, but neither considered it any hardship to be tired in Dr. Dick's service.

Mr. Pell had a span of quiet farm-horses, who, like ourselves, were contented to serve a good master. All the stock and poultry were well cared for, and nothing of the tales of woe from the livery stable reached us here, save when Topsy or one of Fred's horses came out for a day.

After a while Master came into my stall one day, with an open letter in his hand.

Then he told me that Chet was drinking and gambling, and had written to him for money.

"I feel that I ought not to send it to him, at the same time I promised to stand by Minnie's children. That woman has turned his father against him, and the latter has sworn never to send him another cent to help him out of his scrapes."

How long the estrangement between the brothers might have lasted I know not, had not Fred fallen ill or something. They said he had "snakes," whatever that is.

Paddy came in great haste, and Master was away nearly two days. He looked very worn and white on his return, but afterward seemed more cheerful, and in time I learned that his brother had quit drinking and signed a pledge. They were much together after that, and finally the town house was given up, and the family came to the farm. I was very sorry, only I was glad to have Bobby again.

Mr. and Mrs. Pell stayed on just the same, and great friends they became with Bobby, but the boys were trials to all of us.

Tommy was his mother's boy, Master said, and I guess he did not mean it for a compliment either.

By and by even good-natured Mrs. Pell got cross with him. He chased the young chickens to death, clubbed the pigs and cows, crushed the little chickens between two boards, trampled the flower beds and made himself generally hateful.

Appeals to his mother met with: "Don't bother me, my nerves are all unstrung;" or, "Poor child, he is so full of his pranks!"

Then Mrs. Pell spoke to his father, and that gentleman brought the youngster to the barn and whipped him with his riding whip.

Chet was away two years before he came home at all. Two years at his time of life make great changes, and he came back a tall, slender youth, with a bit of dark down on his upper lip, and a thoughtful, studious air that was becoming.

He was through sowing wild oats, he said, and we all felt very proud and glad—all but his stepmother.

Of course, he drove Topsy out the first thing, and when I saw her, on her return, I knew that Chester Wallace still carried a cruel heart in his bosom. She said he drove as mercilessly as ever. I pitied the poor thing, for I knew that she loved her young master despite his cruel treatment. It is the way with us horses.

He was home two months or more, and Topsy looked jaded and worn when he went away.

I wonder that men do not more often notice when their horses have a fretted look. It is a sure sign that they are being hurt in some way.

Our eyes and facial expressions speak louder than words, if only people cared to consult them.

I noticed a horse, not long since, whose countenance was distorted with pain, yet his owner paid no heed, only cracked the whip and crowded him on.

As you hope for mercy, drivers, show it to the animals you drive, remembering that as you measure it shall be measured unto you again.

"Just as soon as I am old enough," he said, "I shall be a brakesman;" and Mrs. Wallace encouraged him. Anything, with her, to get them away from home. Her relations with Chet, through the summer, had not been pleasant, so he stayed another two years before returning.

His father suggested that he superintend the farm for a year or so, until he decided what he would do.

He finally decided to do it, and went to work. All was well so long as he did not get angry, but he lost his temper on the slightest provocation, and ofttimes without any. Especially was he hard on anything in his power.

One morning I saw him get angry at a cow, because she had wandered into a lot where she did not belong. Grabbing hold of a pitchfork, he gave chase. Round and round the lot the frightened creature ran, too confused to see the narrow gateway, Chet jabbing the fork into her at almost every step. The longer the chase continued the madder he got and the less chance the cow had for escape.

How long it was I cannot say, but it seemed an age to me before Master appeared on the scene, and, in thunder tones, bade him cease.

Gently he drove the trembling creature from the lot. Blood trickled from some of the punctures, and as soon as she found a quiet place she lay down. Days and weeks of suffering followed, and then Master said she must be put out of her pain.

Chet was plowing with Topsy and another horse one day. The former had a sore mouth, brought on by his nervous irritating way of twitching and jerking the lines. Exasperated at last, she worked the bit up so as to hold it with her teeth.

Instantly flying into a passion, he drew his knife from his pocket and gashed her mouth far back on either side.

Such a sorry sight as she was when he, shamefacedly, led her into the stall, blood running in a stream from either side of her face.

It was not the pain—and there was plenty of that, and inconvenience, too, during the weeks following—so much as it was the injustice and cruelty that hurt sensitive, high-mettled Topsy.

There was a stormy interview between uncle and nephew in the barn, while the lacerated mouth was being sewed and dressed.

"If there was a law in this state that would touch such fellows as you are, I'd use it on you," cried Master hotly, "and there will be one; mark it!"

CHAPTER XV.

That fall Master was elected to the legislature—whatever that is—and was gone pretty nearly all winter.

I did not like it at all; for though Chet dare not injure me outright, he was at times very disagreeable, and I never felt safe a minute about the other animals. I did hope he would go off and study medicine, as he sometimes talked of doing.

When Master came home to stay he seemed quite elated over some law they had made for the protection of dumb brutes, but he said it would be a long while before officials generally would be faithful in its enforcement.

That was an unusually busy spring with the doctors, and Chet managed the farm to suit himself. Among other barbarous things he did, and allowed to be done by Paddy, who had come to work for us, was tying the young calves to stakes and leaving them there without food or water for hours. Of course, at first there was a little grass for them to nibble, but this was soon gone. Often their ropes became wound around the stakes until they could only stand helpless, with their heads drawn closely down.

One pretty little heifer ("Rosebud," Bobby called her) was thus tied, and getting wound up, died a slow, torturous death. After this event he put all the young animals in a small, barren lot, where the scenes of the days of the Stringers were re-enacted. Day and night there were piteous calls for something besides dry hay. Once a day a large trough was filled with water, but this the older, stronger animals quickly drank up, and the younger, weaker ones had to go without.

One calf had its leg broken in a vain effort to slake its burning thirst. With a moan of pain it dragged itself away to a fence corner and sank exhausted. Days it lingered there. A few times Carm and Paddy carried it a pail of skimmed milk or water, barely enough to prolong its agony, I thought. The supposition was that it had only hurt its leg, and would soon be better. Master was scarcely ever at home in daylight, and Bobby was made to believe the calf would soon be well. When they found it dead, its poor,[Pg 75] parched tongue protruding from its mouth, and a look of mute reproach yet in its sightless eyes, they dragged it away as unconcernedly as if it had been a stick of wood.

Several times Chet tore suckling-calves from their mother's side and permitted rough men to lead, or rather drag, the pleading, frightened creatures off, paying no heed to the mother's wild agony unless to speak some hard, profane word to her.

In selling any living thing he seemed to try and invent the most cruel modes of transportation, putting calves, sheep or poultry in such small cases that they would be piled on top of each other. In driving sheep, there were always serious accidents happening, and many a time has he driven fat hogs in the heat and dust until one would fall by the wayside, and then he would kick it to death.

You would not take him for such a man, just seeing him about. Ordinarily he had a low, soft voice, and gentle winning ways.

A friend came to visit him, and, taking Topsy and Bulow, the dog, they went for prairie chickens.

She said that Bulow seemed so happy on the way out, and that the men sounded his praise continually.

After a while the dog scared up a covey of chickens, and the men—rising in their seats—shot into them.

"Bring in the birds," Chet said. Bulow stood by them, but refused to touch them. Again and again the order was repeated, but still the animal refused.

"Never mind, Wallace," said his friend. "Some dogs—good[Pg 76] ones, too—never make retrievers. Something in their early training was wrong."

A moment more and Chet had raised his gun to his shoulder and fired, filling the dumb creature's hips with shot. With a piteous whine the dog dropped to the ground.

With an obedience that ought to have shamed the hard-hearted wretch, the animal dragged himself up and to his master's feet, blood trickling from a score or more shot holes.

"I never saw such a look of piteous agony in eyes, human or brute, before," Topsy exclaimed vehemently. "It was terrible!"

"Let up, Wallace; don't be a fool," cried his companion, touched by the mute suffering.

With an oath, the latter brought the butt of the gun down on his defenceless head, once, twice, thrice, and then there was a convulsive struggle and a dead dog lay weltering in his own blood.

At another time, when Carm owned a common mongrel dog, there was a cat and three well-grown kittens at the barn. Master and Bobby had petted them until they were perfectly tame.

For some reason or other, Chet determined that they must die, but instead of humanely killing them, he bade Tommy set the dog on them.

Getting them all together, he gave the dog his orders. It happened right in my sight, and all I could do was to kick and neigh, but no one paid any attention. Carm and Tommy were enjoying what they called "the fun."

The first kitten fought valiantly, but soon the cruel teeth[Pg 77] sank in her throat and she lay limp.

The boys cheered lustily as the kitten fought for the life so precious to it, and the dog shook and bit it.

I wondered how the former could claim to be human and yet stand unmoved at the pleading and terror in the poor little face.

So cruel to thus turn upon the happy, innocent creatures, and that, too, on the very spot they had learned to love as home!

Little Gray (as Bobby called her) was a mangled mass of wet fur and blood when the dog quit her, and less than an hour before she had played so prettily with her mates.

She screamed at sight of her dead pets, and, flying at the dog, beat him with a piece of board.

"He did? Well, if there was anything in this world that he loved, I'd kill it," she declared with blazing eyes, "but he don't love anything."

There were high words between Chet and Master that noon, and I heard the former mutter as he walked off:

A few days later, poor old puss, while looking for mice in a bin of grain, put her paw into a steel trap that had been placed there by Tommy, on purpose.

It was late at night when puss was caught, that is, after the work was all done, and I cannot bear to even think of the torture she must have endured all those long hours until daylight.

"Mercy on us!" he cried, as he caught sight of the wild, glaring eyeballs. She was almost mad with the long strain and agony.

Not daring to touch her, he ran for a gun, but the boys, suspecting what was going on, rushed into the barn ahead of him, and shouted with fiendish glee when they saw her.

"Pull her out," shouted Tommy, and loosing the chain that held the trap, they flung that and the suffering creature rudely on the floor. Her paw was crushed at the main joint.

I can never forget the look in her eyes as she watched Paddy point the gun, but I am thankful that the next moment ended her misery.

Delighted with his success at "trapping," as he called it, Tommy rearranged the trap, but, unknown to him, Paddy removed and hid it.

"It's jest the way with half the folks in the world," the latter muttered; "they have hearts like flint stones."

And I knew his words were true, else people would be more considerate and merciful.

CHAPTER XVI.

One year Master and I spent in the city. He was supplying the place of a friend in the profession, who was sick and had gone abroad.

I saw a good deal of life there, but dark as some of the pictures were, they had in some instances their bright side. In this city a society for the prevention of cruelty to animals, had lately been started, and, though people generally did not give it much countenance, there were still a few brave, humane men and women who dared to speak for those who could not speak for themselves; who dared to do right despite the sneers and jeers of the world.

We dumb animals have reason to thank the Creator that He made a few like these. Horrible cruelties had gone uncensured in this city before. Animals had died for lack of food and water, others had been cut and mangled by trains and left to die by inches, lesser creatures had been openly tortured to death, and beasts of burden had been kicked and pounded to death on the streets.

Perhaps a month had elapsed, after we were settled there, when, as Master drove leisurely down one of the principal thoroughfares, he noticed a crowd gathered on a corner just ahead. Coming closer we beheld a mule lying on his side, attached to a heavy load of coal. Blows and kicks were falling fast on his head and body.

"Get up, you lazy brute! get up, I say! don't try any of yer tricks on me," and then there were more blows, kicks and curses.

The crowd grinned and seemed amused. Springing from the cart, Master asked a boy to hold me, and elbowed his way to the side of the driver.

Touching him on the arm, he said gently, but firmly: "Don't strike again; there is something wrong here or the creature would get up and go on."

With that Master stooped down and stroked the mule's face gently, speaking in a kind, encouraging tone.

Presently when it found it had a friend, it began to struggle to its feet, succeeding at last in standing upright. Then Master began to examine the harness, which was old, stiff and full of knots.

"If you would grease this harness until it is soft, and take more pains in mending it, your dumb servant would thank you for it," he said. At that moment he noticed that when he touched the collar the animal flinched and his fore-leg trembled. Lifting that part of the gearing, there was revealed a spot as large as the hand of a twelve-year-old child, all raw and bleeding.

"No wonder, sir, the poor thing could not draw this heavy load, with such an affliction as that," the doctor said, almost angrily.

"It wasn't so bad this mornin'," the man answered, "and anyway that ain't much of a sore to use a mule up."

"A mule, my man, has just as much feeling as you or I. If you think you would be willing to pull right along, enduring the torture he is enduring, then there is some excuse for you working him, but, if you don't, then there is not. God made these creatures to serve us, but he made us intending we should be just and kind to them."

Then he took a silk handkerchief from his pocket, folded and put it over the bruise under the collar.

"Now," said he, "a few of us will push until we get this load well started, and you may take it a little way, wherever you can leave it, and then you must promise not to use the mule again until his shoulder is thoroughly healed, and to pad and fix that collar and harness."

"See here, now, Mr. Whoever-you-be, this yer mule is mine, and I don't have to promise no stranger nothin'."

"Oh, well, if that is your game, all right. I meant to be easy with you, but, if you prefer, I will have you arrested and fined at once."

"Fined! great blazes, ain't that mule my own, and hain't I a right to cut him into sarsage if I want to?"

"Maybe you have not heard, my good fellow, that there exists in this city to-day a society for the prevention of such[Pg 81] abuses as this; and that it has power from the State to arrest, try and fine you for the deeds you have just committed. In the first place, you used the animal when he was unfit for service, and, in the second place, you kicked and pounded him. Unless you promise the two things I mentioned, and this one added, that you will be kind and humane in your treatment hereafter, I will complain of you at once."

"But I don't b'lieve there is such a s'ciety; leastway, I've allers used my critters as I pleased 'nd nobody's meddled before."

"Exactly, and that is the reason the society has been founded; there are too many like you who use dumb animals as if they were made of granite instead of flesh and blood like ourselves. However, if you don't believe what I say I will prove its truth at once."

"Wall, you look like a man as knows what he's talkin' about; anyway it's kind of you to tuck that fine handkerchief in there. I'll promise."

"Keep the handkerchief as a sign of your promise," said Master; "now, boys, let's all lend a hand."

It only took a few minutes to get the cart to the top of the up-grade, and after that the mule walked slowly but readily off. Master kept him in sight, however, until he saw him unhitched and led away.

Another day we met a man driving a horse that limped very badly. Master pulled up and spoke to him. The fellow was about half drunk and very ugly.

"No matter who it belongs to, it is unfit for travel. You can either drive at once to No. 12 T—— alley, where a veterinary will examine it free of charge, or you will be arrested on charge of cruelty to animals."

"Hold on, sir, every blow you strike will increase your fine or term of imprisonment."

The fellow paid no heed, and Master signaled a policeman, who put him under arrest. I learned afterward that he was fined twenty dollars and costs, besides losing the use of his horse for many weeks and having to pay for its board during[Pg 82] the time. The treatment was given free. A little later Master obtained a policeman's star for himself.

(It is quite common in cities for the humane detectives to wear their star under a civilian's coat.)

He engaged actively in the work all the year, reporting a hundred cases or more. For the benefit of persons who think such a society unnecessary, and who imagine there are few cruelties being perpetrated on the dumb creation, I will mention a few of the cases where Master interfered.

A woman scalded a dog until his hide peeled off his back; a man got angry at a neighbor and shut the latter's dog in a cellar until the poor animal starved to death; two young fellows raced their horses until one horse dropped and had to be shot, and the other was practically ruined; a drunken man drove a horse ten miles with a dislocated knee; a jockey drove a horse a mile with one hoof torn off; another disemboweled his horse with spurs; three men, in fits of anger, cut pieces from horses' and mules' tongues; another shot a mule and went away without waiting to see if it was dead, and it was found alive two days after; a colored man overloaded his team, and when they were unable to start the load he buried an axe in the shoulder of each; dozens were arrested for driving lame and galled horses, several for using unshod animals on the ice; four blacksmiths for inhumane treatment of horses they were shoeing; two men for leaving cows and calves unprotected until they froze; some for underfeeding domestic animals; a number of butchers were fined heavily for rough and inhumane treatment of animals to be slaughtered, such as punched their eyes out and the like.

Then there were countless cases, not on record, where kindly advice induced people to be more humane, and I heard Master say that he had spent two hundred dollars out of his own pocket for horse-blankets, new collars, easier bits, etc.

And now, if there is any evidence lacking to convince the indifferent and skeptical of the need of humane societies and brave men to work, I wish they might hear some of the tales of woe and abuse that were repeated to me that year while boarding at a city livery barn.

I remember one handsome pair of imported Arabian horses that were stalled one night there.

To look at them, I suppose they were proud and happy, but they said they were neither, they had had to leave their own homes, and be brought across the ocean; and through all that dreadful voyage, they said, they had been obliged to stand up. The swaying of the vessel made them dreadfully sick, and every cord and muscle in their bodies was strained. They were very home-sick, and neither the climate nor the food agreed with them.

At another time a noted race-horse was there, "Queen of the Turf," they called her.

She said she would willingly exchange places with an old cab horse. So much was expected of her, and she was too proud to fall below her record.

"But, oh," she said, "it is a hard life. I long for some freedom and real rest, but it is all training or care. I hate the race-course!"

And here, for the first time in my life, I saw horses wearing the over-draw check, and going about with tails and manes cut off.

It all seems so unnaturally inhuman, that, even yet, I think sometimes I must be dreaming.

CHAPTER XVII.

When we returned to the farm Master saw at a glance that Chet's farming was "poor farming."

Some new and scientific methods had been introduced, that were well enough as methods, but when used by a person unable to modify and apply them to practical use, they fell flat.

Something else had happened while we were gone, that, for very shame, the girl had not written to her uncle, and now I will tell it in Topsy's words:

"After Chet cut my mouth so badly, he seemed to hate me worse than ever, and rarely spoke in other than a savage tone of voice.

"Once, or rather, a good many times, he spoke of selling me; said he would sure, but 'the old fool' raised nice colts.

"Dear me, it almost kills me to think of his handling my pretty, tender babies. He has always been so unfeeling; keeping them from me long hours at a time, when I knew they were suffering from hunger, and then letting them nurse while I was overheated.

"But after Dr. Dick went away there there seemed nothing to check his fits of fury. He don't mind in the least what his father says, and several times boxed Bobby's ears when she interfered. Of course, it makes the trouble between him and Mrs. Wallace worse for him to misuse the girl, though she has never seemed to care much for her herself. It is all 'Tommy' with her.

"Well, Chet drove me hard, worked me hard and beat me hard, but I tried to be obedient and do my duty, until one day my colt, which he had tied to my side as Jean and I plowed, got so tired and hungry it could hardly go another step. Indeed, it was fairly dragging along by the strap. He was in a great hurry to get the piece done, as he was going to see his girl; so would not stop, but kept striking the colt. I endured it just as long as I could, then stopped in the furrow.

"Poor baby made a feeble lunge for her dinner, but, with a stinging blow, Chet bade me go on. I had made up my mind that that colt should have a minute or two of rest and a few drops of milk if he killed me for it. When I stood still he dropped the plow-handle and lines, and, coming around in front of me, cut me full in the face with that whip lash until the blood flew. I tried to shut my eyes and turn my face away, but it was no use, the blows continued until, in my agony, I opened an eye, and the knot on the end of the lash cut right into it. After that I was so frenzied I remember nothing distinctly, but Jean says he cut away until Paddy, who was working in the next field, rushed over and pulled him away by main force. The colt was so badly choked in the row that it died before morning, and I tell you I am glad of it. I never want anything to suffer as I have suffered, and bad masters are to good ones as fifty to one.

"So, as you see, I am blind of an eye. It makes it hard for me, but, if I can keep the other one, I won't fret."

Bobby had grown a willful girl, though still as sweet and tender-hearted as when a baby. She was the idol of her father and uncle, but had no training. As intimated before, she had never been a favorite with her mother, and I think she secretly realized and resented it.

Chet had spells of being very good to her, and when he chose to be agreeable it was hard to resist him.

In a moment of anger his father turned him out of doors, but Master followed him—he was Nannie's boy.

"For the sake of your dead mother, Carm," Master pled, "change your ways and strive to be a man. She is waiting for her two boys up there. Must I tell her, when I meet her, that they are lost?"

"But I tell you I will reform if I can be engaged in the business I like," the boy persisted.

"It is too dangerous, Carm. Reform first, and then I will try and secure for you the position you desire. You are too young yet, anyway."

There was in our stable at this time, a span of young black horses, high-spirited and stylish. They belonged to the two doctors—"the firm," as they were called.

Chet had a pair of young bays—Topsy's children—that were built more for endurance, and, at their request, a trade was made.

The blacks, Romeo and Juliet, were as gentle and obedient as they were high-bred and handsome.

Every one admired them, and they were proud themselves, especially proud of their flowing manes and tails.

After awhile Chet married the peaked-faced girl to whom he was engaged, and they went to Boston for the honeymoon. This is what Bobby said, anyway, and I know they were gone a little while. When they came back she trotted about with him all over the farm, and just went into ecstasies over Romeo and Juliet.

"Aren't they just too lovely, dearest?" she cried every time she saw them. "Won't you give them to me for my very, very own?"

I suppose he gave them to her, or pretended to, for she called them hers after that.

I found out about this time, from hearing Master and Bobby talk, when they were out riding, that "Cleo"—that was Mrs. Chet—was a Boston girl, and that she and Chet had become acquainted during her visit to a relative in M——.

After that I heard her telling Chet one day that it was the fashion in Boston now to dock the stylish ponies and cut off the manes.

Why, I could not have been more astonished had she said they cut off their legs.

"Oh, deah, no," she answered, "all the nabobs and—and tony people have their horses that way."

"What an old beah your uncle is," she said, poutingly, to Chet when Master was out of hearing.

"Oh—well, you must not mind Uncle Dick; he is cranky on some points, but not a bad fellow, after all, when one is in a tight place."

Cleo shrugged her bare shoulders—her shoulders were always bare—and resumed her plea to have poor Romeo and Juliet maimed and disfigured for life. All the horses were talking about it, and the blacks were terrified half to death.

"I hope it is no worse than having one's mouth cut back and eye whipped out," said Topsy.

"May be it don't hurt at all," said John, and we all tried to comfort the intended victims by this hopeful suggestion.

It was a cool, May morning, some months later, when a couple of strange men came to the farm, and, under their supervision, Chet and the hired man began to build a queer looking structure of heavy timbers.

By and by Bobby came out wringing her hands, her yellow curls all tumbled about her tear-stained face, and begging, first her brother, then the strangers, not to do something, I could not hear what.

All the men laughed but Chet; he bade her go in the house and not be bothering with what was none of her business.

Then her temper got the mastery, and she called him "a cruel wretch," and told him he was bad enough before he married the "wizened fool from Boston," but was worse now.

At this, he grew angry, and, grabbing her by the arm, he dragged her into the house.

She was back, however, almost as soon as he was, and turning up her loose white sleeve, she exhibited a plump arm bearing blue finger marks.

"See there!" she cried to the strangers, "you are witnesses to Chester Wallace's brotherly treatment. I have always[Pg 88] heard that a man who is unkind to animals will be equally cruel to woman, or any weak, defenceless thing."

"We are very sorry, Miss, but your brother has hired us to come some distance, and we are obliged to perform the operation and go. It really does not hurt the horses much, and it only lasts a minute. All the stylish turnouts in cities are now drawn by docked horses."

"But uncle says it is barbarous and ought to be prohibited by law, and he knows."

It did seem pitiful, the two mute, dumb beasts standing, trembling with apprehension, and only the sobbing voice and puny arm of a mere child between them and a dreadful fate.

"Either go in the house, Miss, or else stand by and enjoy it; the business is going on."

"Then I shall stand by, for I mean to report everything to papa and Uncle Dick."

"Yes, sir, and further you will find yourself, your 'deah lambie darling' from Boston, and your mutilated horses all out of shelter when papa comes home. I guess when he sees my arm your cake will be dough."

Nothing but the presence of witnesses restrained the infuriated man from striking the young girl down, as she stood. But the merciless work went on.

Bars of heavy timber were so arranged that no horse living, when once strapped in there, could escape or scarcely move. I could see it all from where I stood in the small pasture near the barn. When all was in readiness, Juliet was brought around, and then I saw that her beautiful, flowing mane was already chopped off, so that just a short bush stood upright along her neck.

She reared and plunged with fright as she was led up to the trap-like arrangement.

There was a brief parley among the men, then Chet turned back, and, catching the girl about the wrist, carried her by main force into the house, remaining there himself to prevent[Pg 89] her return. The moment they were out of hearing (or sight, rather) poor Juliet was roughly hurried into the trap and strapped to stout rings in the floor. There were also straps about her body fastened to rings in the floor.

Of course, the poor horse was entirely helpless, but one of the men stood holding her head.

Oh, it was all too horrible to relate, but since it is daily coming to be the fashion, I will try and go through it, hoping some heart may be touched when a plain statement how docking is done, lies before them.

Then the executioner mounted a block, and with a saw began his inhuman task. There was a moment of silence, then there burst from Juliet's mouth such a cry of agony as I never dreamed a horse could utter. Scream followed scream as the poor beast writhed helplessly, a look in her face beggaring description. So great was her agony that sweat ran in streams to the floor, and blood and foam spurted from her mouth.

As coolly as sawing off a stick of wood, the man worked on, cutting through flesh, muscles, tissues, veins and nerves until the handsome tail lay on the floor and there was only a gory stump left.

At this juncture, Tommy rushed from the old shop with a red-hot iron. Quickly this was applied to the torn and bleeding member.

There was a sickening odor of burning flesh, a sound from Juliet, neither a cry nor moan, something worse, and then she staggered and would have fallen but for the straps that bound her.

The same scene was enacted with Romeo, whose agony, if possible, seemed greater.

They were both sick for some days, and it was thought at one time that Romeo would die, the fever and inflammation ran so high.

Dr. Fred told his son that he must take his belongings and leave, but the latter refused, saying he had taken the[Pg 90] farm for a year; and Cleo intimated that she considered herself as mistress then.

This proved too much for the elder Wallaces, and Chet was obliged to hire rooms elsewhere, though he continued to manage the farm.

Cleo seemed to imagine herself quite an aristocrat when riding out behind the poor, mutilated creatures, who had added to their torture the over-draw check rein.

Heads drawn back until every muscle was strained, unable to see the way over which they must travel, and a prey to flies and gnats!

No protection about their heads and ears, for the long mane, intended for both use and beauty by the Creator, was gone, and sides, hips and legs were the feasting ground for stinging, blood-sucking insects; no long tail to switch them off. And then how they looked!

The poor things felt their disfigurement as well as their pain; they knew that they looked silly and ridiculous.

It was only a little while until they were utterly dispirited and all their style was gone.

Between hard driving, the discomfort of being docked, and the ailments induced by the over-draw check, they were old horses at the time they should have been in their prime, and rapidly they changed owners.

Before the end of Chet's year on the farm, the list of his cruelties culminated in what seemed to me to be the most dastardly deed of all.

Topsy, despite her hard life, was the faithful "stand-by." On her fell the major part of all the hard work.

Two years she had occupied the same stall; therefore, great was her surprise one evening, on being turned loose by the hired man in the yard, as was his custom with her, to find a strange horse in her place. However, the stall was wide, and, without making trouble, she took her place beside the intruder, and was bending her head to take up a bite of grass from the manger, when, with a furious oath, Chet rushed down the alley to the front of the manger, and, with a knotted stick, struck her in the face, the first blow half stunning her, the second one tearing the remaining[Pg 91] eye from its socket, and crushing it on her cheek.

She had said she would be thankful to keep one eye, and now that was gone. All that night she lay moaning in her stall, almost crazed with pain. Master never left her the long hours through. He had Chet arrested and fined $25, but that could not restore Topsy's sight.

In less than a month her colt was born. "To think I can never see him," she said piteously. "Tell me, Dandy, how he looks!"

The complete loss of sight proved a terrible cross to her. Unlike many horses, she never learned to move with confidence. She was nervous and timid; indeed, I think she had been beaten about the head until her hearing was defective, and then the cruelties that had filled her life had wrought upon her sensitive nature until she was nervous and distrustful. Many a day, and sometimes days at a time, she has gone without water because she could not find the tank. As I am here going to dismiss poor Topsy from my story, I will say that her master soon sold her and her colt. A few times since, I have seen her toiling along beside her mate, her sightless face wearing a blank, worried expression, and always that timid, frightened way with her. Once we had a little talk, and she told me that her life was a misery. She cannot learn to trust herself, and as she is only "Old Tops," no one takes any pains with her. She said her shoulders were all galled under her collar.

Despite the bad fortune of her life, though, she has still a slender, graceful form and a high-bred air.

CHAPTER XVIII.

At the end of that year Chet and his family went away, and not long after Master found the coveted place for Carm.

It went against him to put the boy on the railroad, and a brakeman's life is none too desirable at best; but nothing else would do, and he had made a fair record at school.

Master was going to spend the winter in New York and I was to be left at home. Tommy went to school in town, and himself and a hired man they called Burr, did the work at the farm.

I say farm, though the town had grown quite to it, and a long distance along the east side of it. Vainly people tried to have the firm sell lots, but they said they wanted it all for themselves when they retired; but virtually we lived "in town."

He was underhanded and treacherous, keeping a fair outside to the world, and was counted by many a model youth.

His mother regarded him as such, and, in a manner, made Dr. Fred believe the same; but they were destined to a sudden awakening.

I suppose parents in general would consider it presumption for an old horse to advise them, but if they had heard as much talk among boys and young men as I have, they might be wiser than they are.

At any rate, I shall intimate that the wise parent will make sure whether his son goes to bed to sleep upon returning to his room, or whether it is only to keep still until the house is quiet, and then steal down the back stairs, or down the woodshed roof to spend the night in revelry.

Mrs. Wallace did not always breakfast with the family, but sometimes when she did I have heard that she noticed Tommy's pallor and worn expression, and chided him for studying so hard.

To others she expressed the opinion that the "dear child" was killing himself by close application, and she feared[Pg 93] his mind would prove too much for his body. Bobby would laugh and tell her not to worry; that Tom would never die young on account of his goodness or smartness.

Well, it was a shock to me, one night about two o'clock, to hear Tommy's step in the barn and hear him call to Burr in a frightened whisper:

"Burr, Burr, get up and hide me somewhere; for Heaven's sake, hide me, I pray. I have killed a man and they are after me."

Burr, who slept in a little chamber right over my stall, was too dazed to do anything at first, but Tommy's terror was so real that he compelled himself to act.

Running down the stairs, he scratched away the straw that concealed a trap-door in the floor and bade him crawl in. Then he scattered the straw back and climbed to his room. He could not have more than reached his bed when hurrying feet and confused, angry voices sounded outside; then somebody opened the door and flashed a lantern into the barn.

"Well, if he is here, we'll have him dead or alive; it was a piece of cold-blooded crime, if ever there was one."

The latter pretended to be very sleepy and wholly unable to understand what they meant at first.

He stoutly denied all knowledge of Tom, solemnly assuring them that he was not in the barn to his knowledge.

After searching everywhere, as they thought, they found their companions at the house.

I suppose that the women folk were terribly frightened. Burr followed to the house, and when he returned, after the searching party had seemed to go away, he told Tommy that his mother "just dead fainted away."

After awhile Tommy said he must go and see his mother, and be out of the country before daylight.

He started for the house, but never reached it in safety.[Pg 94] Spies were lying in wait to grab him, and he was in handcuffs when his mother saw him. I wonder if she thought of Master's prophetic words of long ago.

I guess it is about so. Cruel children make cruel men, and if the former are allowed to be cold-blooded and murderous in their little world, the latter will likely be in their greater one.

Tommy was put in jail, Burr said, to await trial, but somehow broke out and escaped.

Where he is now, I don't know, but some think his mother does. She was quite broken down with grief and shame after that dreadful event, and Dr. Fred was bitter against her because she had been so blind and indulgent.

"I am always so driven with business," he said, "but you have plenty of hired help, and nothing to do but to look after the children."

I think the family felt the disgrace keenly, and I know that Dr. Fred looked ten years older when Master came home than when he went away.

Then there arose another trouble. Bobby was keeping company with a man of whom her father did not approve.

Dr. Fred took her with him a great deal, and once, when he drove me, I heard him entreating her to give the man—Paul Garret they called him—up.

"You are all I have left, daughter," he said, pleadingly, "and I can't bear to see you throw yourself away on that fellow."

"Did she ever oppose any of my children when they were rushing to ruin, I wonder!" he cried bitterly.

"And you are entirely too young to think of marriage yet, anyway," he added. "I am willing to do anything for you; send you off to school, give you music, painting, anything you name, only give up going with, or even thinking of, that worthless fellow."

She kept so quiet all the rest of the way that I thought she was convinced and meant to yield obedience at last. It[Pg 95] could not have been more than a fortnight after that, that I was startled one night by a hand on my head and Bobby's sweet voice whispering:

Silently she put a side-saddle on my back, and guided me out into the pale starlight, keeping well in the shadow of the barn.

Then mounting, she directed me down a back lane and through a side gate that stood open, though ordinarily it was closed. The moment we reached the highway, she gave the rein a little twitch, saying:

The air was just keen enough to be bracing, and I had had no exercise for two days. And this reminds me to say that it is a mistaken kindness that keeps a healthy horse standing without exercise for days, or even one day. Nothing is more tiresome, and ofttimes hurtful. If you do not believe it, try standing in almost the same attitude yourself for a great many hours, lying down occasionally, if you can. I saw a handsome young horse once, with hoofs so abnormally grown and distorted (these are Master's words) from standing for months on a plank floor without exercise, that he could not step. So, nothing averse, I went flying over the smooth road until we came up with a dark figure mounted on a chestnut horse.

"Oh, Paul," Bobby said, "I've had the loveliest ride; and ain't this a romantic elopement?"

Side by side they galloped on for several hours until I really began to feel jaded.

By-and-by, Bobby said: "I'll have to slow up; Dandy is getting tired, and I would not hurt him for anything. I know Uncle Dick will forgive me for running away, whether the rest do or not; but he'd never forgive me if I hurt this dear old Dandy."

They went along leisurely for a time after that, talking in low tones of their plans for the future.

Suddenly the ringing sound of horses' hoofs, flying swiftly over the way we had come, caused Bobby to utter a dismayed cry: "They are after us!"

"Nerve yourself for a race," the man, Paul Garret, answered, and the next moment he cut me with a small riding-whip. It was wholly unnecessary, for I had always loved to obey Bobby; but off we dashed like the wind. At first we distanced our pursuers without difficulty, as we were somewhat rested, but after a while they seemed to be gaining.

Paul cut me often with the whip, though I was doing my best, and I knew by the chestnut's breathing that he was cruelly spurring it.

Mile after mile we passed, until at last, just in the gray dawn, we were reined up beside a depot platform.

Quickly they dismounted, and, without even tying us, hurried into a train that was pulling out.

It could not have been more than three minutes later when two men on jaded horses rode up, cursing the luck that the train they had tried so hard to catch was gone.

We—the chestnut and I—were all of a tremble and dripping with sweat. The morning air seemed very cold, and we both felt chilly and wretched.

"What can we do?" said chestnut. "That fellow hired me last night, saying I would probably be at home to-day, but it don't seem possible to go back all that long way without breakfast, or water at least."

"But," I replied, "it is the only thing to do. We can't make folks understand, and, if we go wandering around, we'll be put in the pound. Besides, I am taking cold and getting stiffer every minute."

What a weary, weary way it was! One of my knees, too, had been sprained in that last mad race, and became momentarily more painful.

It was long past noon when I limped into our own lane. A pair of our horses stood at the gate, and a moment later Dr. Fred, with a face awful in its stern whiteness, came out of the house.

"The horse is ruined," he remarked tersely, looking me over, "but I don't know as anything matters much. Give him the best of care and nursing," he added to Burr.

The latter was a good hand with horses. "Poor Dandy!" he said, "I wish you could tell where you have been, and about the little mistress."

He gave me a warm mess, and while I ate it he rubbed me vigorously with a rough cloth, covering me afterward with a blanket for a little while.

My knee he bandaged with arnica, after bathing it a long while with warm water. Later he gave me water, a little hay and a good currying.

Toward night I became feverish, but a couple of doses of aconite corrected that. My knee has been weak ever since.

I learned from a conversation between Burr and his brother, who sometimes stayed over night with him, that Bobby left a note in her room saying that she had borrowed Dandy for a few hours; that she was going away with "poor, dear Paul." She preferred any hardship with him to life without him, and she hoped papa would forgive her.

Mrs. Wallace assured her husband that it was just what he might have expected when he opposed the match so violently.

"You ought to have remembered, too, that the girl is all Wallace, headstrong, conceited and quite above being rebuked."

And so they relieved themselves by blaming each other, instead of kindly sharing their mutual burdens.

Dr. Fred refused to try to find the girl, and the matter was hushed up, though Burr said every tongue in town was wagging.

Had Master been home I think he might have saved Bobby. When he did come, his presence was like a benediction,[Pg 98] and from that hour Dr. Fred has seemed to lean upon him more than ever.

Burr had been some miles from home of an errand one day. When he returned, he asked straightway for Master. He was literally trembling with excitement.

"It beat all the horrible, dastardly tricks I ever see. Think of it, Dr. Dick, roasted a horse alive!"

"Well, I'll try and tell about it, though I'm completely cut up. You see, I was at Griner's, seeing about them potatoes, when little Jim Griner came running in, sayin' that Job Wells was burnin' of his balky horse alive.

"Griner and me jist lit out for Wells' place, but about a half a mile before we got to his house we came on the awfulest sight eyes ever see.

"There that poor, dumb brute stood just moaning with pain, but it appeared like he couldn't move, and from a dry brush fire, kindled right between his fore and hind legs, the flames were leapin' clean up around his body. Mercy on us, how the hair and flesh smelled!

"I jest pulled out my revolver and shot the poor critter dead, but I'll never forget the look in his face to my dying day, never!"

Master's indignation can better be imagined than described, as he hurriedly ordered a rig and hastened to have the inhuman wretch apprehended. There was a big time about it, but finally the fellow had to pay a heavy fine.

Master says that balkiness is, in truth, a disease, not a habit; that a horse's brain is so constituted that he can have but one idea at a time, and that, in a state of perfect health and comfort, no animal will balk; that there is some cause for it. If its mind can be diverted, it will always start on all right.

He says there are dozens of simple things that can be resorted to, and no harm be done to either man or beast.

I remember a balky horse that used sometimes to be in the livery barn in the city.

He said that when quite young he was often overloaded, and when he failed to pull they pounded him.

By-and-by, he said, it got so that, when loaded even moderately, he would get so nervous for fear he could not pull it and he would be pounded, that, in spite of himself, he would stop; and so it came about that the balkiness grew on him.

Another said he used to be balky until his present owner bought him, and that it came on him in much the same way as the other described.

Nervousness seemed to paralyze his limbs, and all he could think of was that he couldn't go, he knew he couldn't, and he might as well let them beat him first as last.

"After a while," said he, "this kind man bought me, but, of course, I did not know then that he was kind, and the first time he hitched me up I balked. I did not want to; indeed, I was anxious that he should think well of me, so anxious that it made me nervous.

"Naturally I expected a pounding, and when it did not come, nor anything else, I looked around to see what he was about. There that man sat on a stump whittling, and presently he began to whistle.

"I concluded I had made some sort of a mistake, and, while wondering what it all meant, my nervousness passed off, and when he said kindly: 'Well, Ross, are you ready to start?' I moved off briskly. Only once or twice since that have I balked at all, and then only for a minute. Master's voice is so kind and encouraging, and I know he won't require more of me than I am able to perform."

Burr says he has seen plenty of balky horses started by feeding them an apple or some little thing they particularly like, and I tell you honestly that we horses like dainties as well as anybody. Master must have spent dollars and dollars for the apples and candy he has fed me in my life. Another device Burr mentioned was lifting up one of the fore feet and tapping smartly on the shoe, and another, buckling a strap tightly about the knee. A man he used to work for had a span of balky broncos. They kept backing instead of standing perfectly still, so he would simply turn them around, and they would trot off well pleased. Of course, he could turn back again as soon as he liked. He never whipped them.

Kindness and patience will cure the worst case of balkiness existing; harshness only seats the malady more deeply, and horses can't help it.

Master and I were some miles from home on one occasion, when we heard a sound something like that made by a horse-power threshing machine, only sharper and more jerky.

As we came nearer we saw a sort of trap up in the air with a big wheel under it. The floor of the trap was quite a marked incline, and tied on there were two horses stepping, stepping, always stepping. Presently one of them stumbled and went down on her knees, struggling all the while to regain her footing.

The incline of the floor caused them to stand in a humped over and most trying position.

"I am afraid, if I were a horse, I would quit stepping and let the machine run down," said Master.

"Not after you'd had a few lessons," the man replied. "When they cease that motion, I have seen them flung clear out of the box. I saw one thrown in a regular somersault, and so badly injured about the head and neck that it had to be killed."

"They do get mighty tired," replied the fellow, coolly, "especially old Polly here, but you see she is stone-blind and about wore out anyhow, so it is all she's good for."

"And have you no feeling for a dumb brute, one that has served you well, too, but just to get what you can out of her? Do you never feel any pity for her, knowing that she is[Pg 101] as susceptible to suffering as a human being?

"Have you ever tried to put yourself in her place, sightless, old, terrified and weak?"

The other man was leading poor Polly from the trap now, and we could see that her legs trembled and her body was dripping with perspiration.

"There's gettin' to be lots of these machines," the fellow added, as in self-justification.

"So much the worse," said Master, "I'll see how such work will stand in law. But it seems to me you could save money by putting in a little engine instead of the horse power; one similar to those used on steam threshers, only so small that it is arranged on a common pair of bob-sleds, or on a wagon, and easily drawn about the country by one span of horses. Then all the latter have to do is to transport it, and you can saw enough more wood to soon pay for your engine."

"One thing more, my man," Master added, as he turned to go, "you will find that the merciful, humane man will come out best in the end, not only in respect to the life that is to come, but in this one. Be kind to the dumb creatures and then you may hope that a higher power will deal kindly with you. 'As ye measure it shall be measured to you again.'"

CHAPTER XIX.

In speaking of Bobby, Dr. Fred said he thought dime novels and lack of guidance on her mother's part was what had done the mischief; then, remembering how he had plead with her to give up Garret, he would harden again and add: "But she spurned my love, scorned my advice and entreaties, has made her bed, and now she must lie in it."

"Nay," but Master would urge, "she is so young, her mother encouraged the match, and then the reading matter you speak of finding in her room, was enough to turn any young, undisciplined head. You ought to forgive her, and seek her out the same as you would have done ten years ago, had she run away and got lost in the woods."

Quietly Master did his best to find her, but not a clew could he get, and a new turn was given to the thoughts of the household by the sudden death of Carm. "Crushed between two cars," the message said, and that was all until a tightly sealed casket came.

Master and another physician did open it, though, but neither father nor mother were allowed to see the remains. Master came out to the barn with a face white and drawn, and, resting his arm on my neck and his head on them, he sobbed like a grieved child.

"Oh, Dandy, this is worse than all, worse than all! I wonder if he'll see his mother?"

"Much comfort children bring, judging from my own experience," groaned Dr. Fred at another time. "What a failure life is, anyhow!"

And I thought, "Yes, it is to men like you, who are trying to steer themselves through the world, and living for self instead of humanity. My master's life is not a failure."

A sorry day it was for brute creation when barb wire was introduced into general use on farms.

They put it around our pasture the first we knew of it. One bright morning John, Jean, Tim and Ball—a span of[Pg 103] young horses—and myself were turned in, and, feeling the joyous freedom of unrestrained liberty (and, let me tell you, the oldest, most patient horse in the world feels worried and irritated by gearing, at times), away we went for a race, the young ones especially, rearing, kicking and plunging gaily.

Suddenly there was a crash, a frightened neigh of pain, a series of groans, and poor jolly Tim recoiled from his violent contact with the fence, blood pouring down his chest and forelegs.

Help soon arrived, and Tim was led away a very different looking animal from what he was when he entered.

Master washed out the wounds as well as he could, and applied a lotion made of one ounce calendula to three of soft water. He gave aconite to keep down his fever, and afterward cinchona as a tonic, and in time Tim was about as jolly as ever, though much more cautious.

The next thing that happened was Jean cutting herself on the hip, or rather, just in front of it, where the hip and abdomen join.

Master treated her as he had Tim, only he stitched the jagged edges of the wound together. It was in a place where it could not be kept covered successfully, and flies were bad; besides Jean continually reached back and worried it with her nose. For this they tied her short; then he made a lotion and a very few parts carbolic acid, just how many I do not know, but he tested its strength by touching a little to one edge of the sore. The acid, he said, would cleanse it and keep the flies out.

She got well, but an unsightly scar remained. Another horse laid his shoulder open, and for some reason it would not heal, and he died of blood poison in spite of all they could do.

I fancied that by being careful I was going to escape being impaled on the wretched barbs; but one day, when Mrs. Wallace was driving me, she became frightened at some loose horses, and jerked me into a wire fence by the roadside.

Well, one needs to be cut on a barb wire once to fully appreciate what it means. So many, many sad cases come to one's notice of horses and other domestic animals that are[Pg 104] dragging out a miserable existence owing to the introduction of this "new invention." Sometimes it seems that everything is to the end of making man's life easier and that of the dumb brutes harder.

Master had all the barb-wire removed from this place long ago, supplying its place either with board, woven wire or lawn wire fences.

But bad as barb-wire is, it is nothing to the fad for the over-draw check-rein that is shortening the lives of horses everywhere, to say nothing of the torture they endure while they do live.

Why people use it I cannot imagine, for anyone with half an eye knows that it ruins the looks of a horse.

Master says that he, for one, will never presume to improve on the works of the Creator, who is far more artistic than man, and understands the science of beauty perfectly.

Many horses have told me, in tones from which all hope seemed gone, of the long hours of inexpressible torture they endure. They say, and I hear it told that the most eminent veterinary physicians in the world say the same, that the check-rein injures a horse from his head to his tail, from his shoulder to his hoof; it brings on disease and deformity. If a horse's neck has not naturally a fine curve, the rein is not going to remedy the matter. Forced curves are not elegant, and the most of the animals I have seen wearing it look like ganders when pursuing somebody.

Master said it was terrible to witness the mute agony of horses harnessed to fine carriages and sleighs, that he saw while East; and the worst of it is, they generally belong to people who call themselves Christians. Sabbath after Sabbath men and women kneel in the churches and pray for mercy, while their helpless servants stand without, suffering the extreme of torture. There is no mercy for them.

People go about trying to do good, with never a thought of the agony within reach of their hand that they might relieve.

Strange that intelligent, human beings should imagine for a moment that the continual champing of bits, twitching of the lips, and tossing of the head of an over-checked horse should mean "high life;" don't they know that they are the[Pg 105] only protests that they can make against the cruel torture that they are enduring; the signs of pain; the mute entreaties for mercy?

Master says that if some people have it measured to them as they measure unto the helpless, there is a dreadful day coming; and he believes that many a man will make his bed in hell because of his treatment of God's defenseless creatures here.

Some young men, caught in a rain storm, came into our barn for shelter one day, and I am going to give a little of their conversation for the benefit of other sportsmen. These had been out hunting.

"Yes; why, he didn't seem to know nothin', jest come up 'nd looked a fellow right in the face with the blood all tricklin' down. He died game."

"You bet! Makes me think of one some of us caught in a trap once. One of its legs was broken, so we cut its throat and let go of it. Would you believe the pesky thing lived nigh on half an hour, hopping about on three legs all the time. It was fun to watch it perform!"

"Beats all how long some things hang on, anyhow. I shot a robin one day, jest fer fun. She fell right under a little tree, 'nd two days after I happened to be passing, and there she lay a-gaspin' yet, 'nd with life enough to flutter a mite when she saw me, 'nd give sort of a warnin' chirp. Lookin' up, I spied a nest 'nd four dead birds in it. I 'lowed then she was the mother 'nd the little ones had starved. I wrung the old one's neck, thinking I might as well finish the job."

"I've shot squirrels 'nd such things lots of times, 'nd when I couldn't find 'em easy, I'd go off, 'nd days after find 'em still alive, but too weak to get away."

"Well, it's fun to hunt when game is plenty, but this has been a mighty poor day."

"Say, ain't that Cramer a big fool? I went fishin' with him one day and will you b'lieve he would not string a fish till he'd killed it by running his knife through its spine at the back of its neck? Says a fish that dies ain't fit to eat, 'nd then it is inhuman to let anything die by inches. Cranky, ain't he?"

"I should say? Well, I ain't so particular; it's the fun[Pg 106] of the thing I'm after. I don't care two cents for fish to eat."

Three years passed, and not one word from Bobby, and her name was seldom mentioned.

Life at the farm was quiet and uneventful. The doctors made their rounds of calls, Mrs. Wallace drove Jean or me out occasionally, and Burr carried on the work.

But at last there came a letter to Master which made him look grave and troubled. Often I saw him reading it, or perhaps he got others, but anyway pondering over a closely written page with a white, anxious face.

"Yes, I have wondered whether any good could come of telling you; but now that it has come about, I will. I have been sending her money for three months past. Garret misuses her, I think, but she never says so; only 'I am heartsick and homesick, uncle, besides being laid up with neuralgia. Paul is not doing well just now, and Freddie (named Frederick Richard for you and dear papa).'"

Master had read these last lines from the letter, but here Dr. Fred burst out: "Where is my baby; my sweet Bobby? So she says 'dear papa,' and calls the boy Fred! Bring her home to my lonely heart and empty arms, Dick, and I'll bless you forever."

Of course, I don't know how it all came about, but one morning, some weeks after, Master led me out and set a tiny boy on my back. The little fellow laughed and prattled in an almost unknown tongue. When I got a look at him I saw that he was the picture of Bobby when she was of his age.

Presently a white-faced woman, looking as one might imagine Bobby's ghost would, came out, and, throwing her arms about my neck, wept violently.

"Dandy, dear old Dandy!" she said. For awhile she, her mother and the boy drove out often with me, but suddenly they stopped, and in a few days there was another one of[Pg 107] those strange, sad processions where horses wear black plumes. I have seen many such, but this one—with Master looking unutterably sad—reminded me of that other one so long ago.

"Strange that all I love must die!" moaned Dr. Fred; and looking in Master's eyes I saw a look that seemed to say, "I might echo the same," but he only bore this trouble as he had all the others, smiling when his heart was sorest; brave when almost despairing; thinking of others before himself—this was Master.

And so the years have passed along, and I am, as I stated at first, an old horse, but, thanks to a kind master, I am neither broken down nor dispirited.

My teeth are quite bad, but that matters little so long as I am abundantly fed on ground feed; I am growing a little stiff in the legs, but my stall has an earth floor, kept scrupulously clean and dry and my bedding is fresh and abundant.

My eyesight is excellent, from having always stood in well-lighted barns and never having been pounded or otherwise injured about the head. My hearing is also perfect and my lungs good. My feet have been well cared for excepting in the case mentioned. In short I believe I am healthier now at thirty-one than are most horses of eighteen. I repeat what I have said before, in substance, a good master makes a good horse, inside and out.

If I might gain the ear of man for an hour, I could surely convince him that inhumanity is the poorest kind of business imaginable; that it is unprofitable for the life that now is and for the one that is to come; but as I can only stand here and tell my simple story, I will trust that some good angel will waft it far and wide, and that Master's God will impress the little lessons I fain would teach upon the hearts of all readers.

CHAPTER XX.

About the tragedy? Well, it was a sad affair, and seemed to me, at the time of its occurrence, the saddest thing that could happen; but I have learned since that sorrow untainted by sin is not the worst thing that comes into life, and that—as Master sometimes quotes:

"The love that's safe beneath the sod,
Or better still, in the bosom of God,
Is the perfect love complete."

You see, Master and my sweet young mistress, bonny, brown-eyed Annie Dee, were to be married on the morrow, and a few of the wedding guests were staying at the hospitable old Dee homestead. Railroads were not as plenty then as now, and he was to take her to his home behind the bays—you remember them?

I was going, too, because I belonged to Annie; we had never been separated more than one whole day in my short life, and she loved me dearly.

It is needless to add that I loved her as only an affectionate, dumb creature can love an indulgent owner.

"You are losing your roses, Annie, with the worry and excitement," her bosom friend, Ray Lyle, said; "let us have an hour in the air."

And presently Master on Julie, another young man on Queen, my mistress on Jackson, a high-spirited creature, and Ray Lyle on my back, were flying over the smooth country roads. I don't know how it happened, no one seemed to, but Jackson suddenly became frightened, reared, and the next moment had flung his fair, sweet rider to the ground. Her head struck sharply against a small bowlder by the roadside.

Springing from his horse, Dr. Dick was kneeling beside her in a moment, but she lay limp and unconscious. They[Pg 109] carried her home. After a time she opened her pretty eyes and whispered to Master:

So you see Master's wedding is long deferred, but I know what he means when he says:

Yes, she laid down the burden of life early, and by and by we will do the same—Master and I.

AN OLD HORSE'S APPEAL.

I'm a poor old gray horse whom somebody owns,
That I'm sadly neglected you will see by my bones;
I wish some one would buy me—I wish I were sold
To a man with a heart, for I'm feeble and old.

Every fifth day of the week I come to the mart,
And stand tethered and tied to my dirty old cart,
While my master in ease at the public-house table,
Denies me shelter, and food, and stable.

I'm possessed of some virtues which in him you'll not find,
I am docile and patient, I am gentle and kind;
My acts are instinctive; his the proof of a mind;
But if I've no reason, his is certainly blind.

I know 'tis his haste to accumulate pelf,
I know 'tis the thought of his miserable self.
I know 'tis his love and grasp after greed
That makes him forget he's a Christian in creed.

I am tied with no shelter for hours together,
No matter the wind, no matter the weather;
You may judge how I suffer, think of my pain,
For I am cold, I am sodden, I'm dripping with rain.

Sometimes in the snow, sometimes in the sleet;
You may see me uncared for, exposed in the street
Without water to drink, without morsel to eat.

I stand close to the hall where the magistrates meet,
I am equally close to the justices' seat;
But because I've no wound on my body or head
I may stand till I'm stunned, I may stand till I'm dead.

O friends of humanity! friends of the brute!
Bestow on me pity. Though by nature I'm mute,
I'm a creature of God—deny it who can—
And have feelings as keen and as strong as a man.

A SPECIAL OFFER!

We desire to call the attention of all readers of this book to the descriptive circular on following pages. The book described is one of the most valuable ever issued, and the regular price is $1.00, but we make a

SPECIAL OFFER

One reason for doing this is that we want to get this book into general circulation. Postage stamps will be taken the same as cash. Address all orders to

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,

Lock Box 2767. 57 ROSE STREET, NEW YORK.

30th THOUSAND NOW READY!

To the Reader.

We give in this little pamphlet a few specimen pages from this valuable book, and shall be glad to have you read them over and get some little idea of the immense practical value of the work. One dollar invested in this book will doubtless bring hundreds of dollars to any business man.

The Sale of 30,000 Copies is some indication of its value and popularity among those who have seen the work. The book will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any address on receipt of $1.00.

THE
EVERY-DAY EDUCATOR

OR,

HOW TO DO BUSINESS

A MANUAL OF

SELF-INSTRUCTION

And Useful Information

SEYMOUR EATON
Professor in Drexel College

Author of "One Hundred Lessons in Business," "The New
Arithmetic," "Practical Grammar," "Manual of Corres-
pondence," "Easy Problems for Young Thinkers,"
"Common-sense Exercise in Geography,"
"Civil Service Help Manual,"
"Lessons in Electricity,"
Etc., Etc.

Sent by mail, postpaid, to any address, and money will be returned promptly if you are not satisfied with the book when you get it.

Read What the Author
Says in the Preface:

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

	PAGE
Banking	65
Bookkeeping	76
Business Points for Young Business Men	213
Character in Hands	140
Civil Service Examinations	177
Commercial Arithmetic	37
Common Blunders Corrected	11
Compendium of Facts and Figures	228
Correct Thing in Dress and Manners	215
Correspondence	95
Curiosities	85
Easy Lessons in Astronomy	24
Every-day Geography	17
Famous Autographs	124, 191
Famous Rulers	144
Figure Shorthand	163
Games, Puzzles, Conundrums, Kinks and Wrinkles	166
Good Openings in New Trades	155
Good Readings and Recitations	229
Handy Bible Notes	217
Handy Helps for Bookkeepers	183
Handy Helps for Corresponding Clerks	184
Hints on Public Speaking	15
How to Apply for a Situation	115
How to Buy and Sell Stocks	122
How to Conduct a Home Reading Club	51
How to do Business	99
How to Educate Yourself	7
How to Form a Stock Company	106
How to get a Start	187
How to get out a Patent	207
How to Mark the Price of Goods	190
How to Read Character from Chins and Noses	145
How to Write for the Press	120
How we are Governed	47
Interesting Geographical Comparisons	72
Law Lessons for the People	147
Languages	142
Lessons in Electricity	157
Lessons in French Conversation	209
Lessons in German Conversation	211
Lessons in Spelling	33
Literature, Authors, and Books	107
"Mayflower" Passenger List	118
Mechanic's Arithmetic	101
Mechanical Drawing	192
Opinions of Successful Men	9
Penmanship	199
Physical Culture	152
Practical Lessons in Drawing	172
Proof Reading	154
Reporting	93
Rules of Order for Business Meetings	161
Science Lessons	204
Secret Cipher	117
Shorthand Multiplication	87
Short Cuts in Figures	53
Success on the Road	49
Telegraphy	201
These Bodies of Ours	134
United States History, Leading Facts	126

"It is Worth its Weight in Gold to any Man," is the criticism made about this book by one of the smartest and most intelligent business men of New England.

It is now five years since Mr. Eaton published his One Hundred Lessons in Business of which more than 100,000 copies have been sold.

But a book on business written five years ago cannot help but be a little behind the times to-day.

This new book is new from cover to cover, and we have no hesitation in saying that every subject treated (and there are sixty different departments) is up to date.

It is cheaper to mould the experience of others into our own lives than to learn severe lessons by our own experience. Business will not run itself, neither will it run by simply turning a crank. If you want to keep up with the procession you must keep abreast with the times, and study carefully modern business methods.

The department of How to do Business devoted to short-cuts in figures is very complete, and contains a large number of short methods of arithmetic, which, all who are anxious to become quick at figures will thoroughly appreciate. Many of the best rules have never before appeared in print. Perhaps the best rule is that entitled

SHORTHAND MULTIPLICATION.

This rule was accidentally discovered about four years ago. Since that time Mr. Eaton has given the subject very careful study, and from expert mathematicians, both here and in Europe, he has received some very valuable contributions bearing upon the principles involved. The whole subject is thoroughly explained in How to do Business, and the explanations are so simple that the smallest child who knows how to multiply should be able to understand the rule thoroughly and apply it constantly. It is really one of the best things ever published. For instance, take the example given in the illustration: Say 8 times 3 are 24, and put down both figures. Carry one and say 7 times 9 are 63, and put down both figures. Always carry one. Note that this rule does not apply to all numbers, but it applies to a great many. In five minutes study of the rule, anyone should be able to tell at a glance which numbers will work, and which of the two to write as multiplicand. Don't try to find out the rule by any process of guessing, for there is no guess work about it. It is as exact as the sun and as simple as A B C. Apply it to these examples:

One of the best things about this rule is the fact that it applies to fractional numbers. Try this example the old way and then apply this new rule: 7 times 9 plus 3/4 of 9 equals 69-3/4; carry one, and twice 4 is 8, giving the answer 869-3/4. If you want to try a few examples take 65 by 37-1/2, or 42 by 38-1/2, or 93 by 48-2/3. The rule applies also to numbers of three figures each. It is fully explained in How to do Business.

2. Are you familiar with the law methods regarding suits, mortgages, attachments, liens, notes, endorsers, judgments, executions, the trustee process, etc.?

3. Would you like to know a few improved methods originated by master mechanics?

THIS BOOK CONTAINS OVER

One Hundred Stepping-Stones To Success.

Each of the numerous departments forms a unique feature. Here are the titles of a few: How to Keep a Common Set of Books—Telegraphy—Handy Helps for Corresponding Clerks—Business Points for Young Business Men—Shorthand Multiplication—Practical Lessons in Business Arithmetic—Handy Helps for Bookkeepers—Good Openings in New Trades—Lessons in Penmanship—An Easily Learned System of Secret Writing—How to Succeed at Civil Service Examinations—How to Get a Start—Law Lessons for the People—How to Buy and Sell Stocks—How to Form a Stock Company—Banking—Correspondence—Lessons in French—Lessons in German—Lessons in Electricity—Astronomy—Physical Culture—How to Write for the Press—Figure Shorthand—Lessons in Drawing—Facts and Figures—These Bodies of Ours—Games and Puzzles—Character in Hands—Public Speaking—U. S. History—Authors and Books,—but why go further? Get the book and we will guarantee you will say it is away ahead of anything you have seen before.

HOW TO DO BUSINESS will please you. Even the binding is a little better than the ordinary.

A NEW IDEA.

A BRIGHT DEPARTMENT.

A WONDERFUL OFFER!

70 House Plans for $1.00.

containing 104 pages, 11×14 inches in size, consisting of large 9×12 plate pages giving plans, elevations, perspective views, descriptions, owners' names, actual cost of construction (no guess work), and instructions How to Build 70 Cottages, Villas, Double Houses, Brick Block Houses, suitable for city suburbs, town and country, houses for the farm, and workingmen's homes for all sections of the country, and costing from $300 to $6,500, together with specifications, form of contract, and a large amount of information on the erection of buildings and employment of architects, prepared by Palliser, Palliser & Co., the well-known architects.

There is not a Builder, nor anyone intending to build or otherwise interested, that can afford to be without it. It is a practical work, and the best, cheapest and most popular book ever issued on Building. Nearly four hundred drawings.

It is worth $5.00 to anyone, but we will send it bound in paper cover, by mail, post-paid for only $1.00; bound in handsome cloth, $2.00. Address all orders to

Transcriber's Notes:

Some inconsistent hyphenation retained (e.g. fore-leg vs. forelegs, ofttimes vs. oft-times).

Page 96, changed comma to period and added missing paragraph break after "water at least."

88 × 73	43 × 84	39 × 24
62 × 97	88 × 55	62 × 68
77 × 37	68 × 29	32 × 94
86 × 47	64 × 38	43 × 84
63 × 48	23 × 27	88 × 73
46 × 27	63 × 48	99 × 82
82 × 49	48 × 34	85 × 85
96 × 38	48 × 26	23 × 44

J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING CO.,
Lock Box 2767.	57 Rose Street, New York.

96	42	63
38	29	29
3648	1218	1827

CONTENTS

"White Dandy OR Master and I"

BY VELMA CALDWELL MELVILLE.

A COMPANION BOOK TO "BLACK BEAUTY."

"White Dandy"

OR,

MASTER AND I.

A Horse's Story.

Author of "Queen Bess."

A Companion Story to "Black Beauty."

OR,

MASTER AND I.

FOOTNOTES:

SPECIAL OFFER

30th THOUSAND NOW READY!

THE EVERY-DAY EDUCATOR

OR,

HOW TO DO BUSINESS

A MANUAL OF

SELF-INSTRUCTION

And Useful Information

BY

SEYMOUR EATON Professor in Drexel College

Author of "One Hundred Lessons in Business," "The New Arithmetic," "Practical Grammar," "Manual of Corres- pondence," "Easy Problems for Young Thinkers," "Common-sense Exercise in Geography," "Civil Service Help Manual," "Lessons in Electricity," Etc., Etc.

SHORTHAND MULTIPLICATION.

THIS BOOK CONTAINS OVER

One Hundred Stepping-Stones To Success.

A NEW IDEA.

A BRIGHT DEPARTMENT.

70 House Plans for $1.00.

THE
EVERY-DAY EDUCATOR

SEYMOUR EATON
Professor in Drexel College

Author of "One Hundred Lessons in Business," "The New
Arithmetic," "Practical Grammar," "Manual of Corres-
pondence," "Easy Problems for Young Thinkers,"
"Common-sense Exercise in Geography,"
"Civil Service Help Manual,"
"Lessons in Electricity,"
Etc., Etc.