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White Dandy: A Horse's Story

<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> 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." Tommy was a much worse boy, in some respects, than either of his brothers. 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. "I know that he came home," said one, "and I think he headed for 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." There must have been a dozen of them, and they rushed everywhere. Presently part went to the house and the others routed Burr out. 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." The doctor was gone for the night. 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. Teach humanity to children is the advice of Dandy. 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. The more she was opposed the more persistently she clung to her lover. 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." "Mamma don't oppose me," pouted Bobby. "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: "Be a good boy, Dandy, and don't make a mite of noise." What could it mean? I knew Burr was away that night, and feared that something was wrong. 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: "Now, do your best, Dandy, we have a long journey before us." 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?" Elopement! I saw all then, and wished myself well out of the scrape. 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." [Pg 96] I thought her voice trembled a little at the last. 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. "So lucky," I heard Garret mutter, as they hurried across the platform. 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. It had been no one pursuing the runaway couple after all. 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." "So am I." "We may as well start at once," and we started. 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. [Pg 97] 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." But I could not. 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." "She has turned out as well as your Tommy," he answered, in a rage. 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. The moment Master came into the barn he burst forth: "It beat all the horrible, dastardly tricks I ever see. Think of it, Dr. Dick, roasted a horse alive!" "What? what do you mean?" cried Master. "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. [Pg 99] 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. [Pg 100] 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. "What is that?" Master asked of the man riding with him. "A treadmill wood-saw, I call it. I don't know that that is its name." 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. Several times this was repeated, and they both looked so worn and worried. 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." Master sat in the buggy until the machine stopped. "How long do you usually run without resting?" he asked one of the sawyers. "Two hours sometimes, and even longer." "Why, man, it is enough to wear out cast-iron horses," he cried. "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?" "Naw," the man answered, doggedly, "she's only an old horse." 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." The fellow looked interested. "Have you seen one work?" "Yes, dozens of them, and men are getting rich with them." "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.'" <hr class="chap" /> [Pg 102] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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