Back Aa

White Dandy: A Horse's Story

Close

<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> 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?" "Horses don't sense sech things ez we would," said another. "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." "There's no tellin'," answered another. "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." "It ain't hard to cure; take it in time," said another. "I've cured several." "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." "But why do they abuse them so? Water is plentiful," Martin asked. "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." "If only they cared," echoed Martin, much impressed by Master's words. <hr class="chap" /> [Pg 53] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2