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.
We need encouragement.
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.
"She's got to learn that I'm boss," was a favorite expression of Chet's.
"Well, my boy," said the gentleman, "I suppose it is 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.
"She is going to be an uncommonly easy subject, I predict," he announced.
"But who'd have patience for such slow getting on?" Chet scornfully asked.
"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.
Afterward he gradually introduced the bridle and harness.
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.
An old horse replied that well she might hate it.
"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 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.
Among other experiences that winter was one in horse-shoeing.
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."
"Don't reckon he's better than other horses," he answered.
"Folks might differ on that," said Herman.
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:
"It 'most always lames 'em at first."
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.
"Well, Dandy," he said, "we must get home. Try it once more."
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.
"Do you put such shoes as those on a horse like this?" he cried.
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, they called him. Dr. Fred and Herman had quarreled some time before.
There was a new span of horses, too; John and Jean.
The old stable man privately told Master of some of my hardships, and with tears in his eyes, the latter whispered: "Forgive me, Dandy."
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.
Among other things, I heard him say:
"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."
Were his words prophetic?
We shall see.
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 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 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.
"Dust, smoke, blood everywhere, and the air full of the smell of burning flesh.
"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."
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.
"Oh, Topsy," I said, "what were you doing?"
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.
About this time Dr. Fred sent Chet off to school, and I, for one, was relieved.
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.
I was glad, for I was tired of the livery barn.
We moved right away, but I could see that something was sorely troubling him.
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.
"Oh, Dandy!" she cried. "I am glad to see you, and you don't look a day older!"
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.
"I envy her, though," said Julie. "Better be dead than dying, I say."
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 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!
Who can tell?
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.
"Oh, Dandy!" he said, "what can I do?"
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."
He sent the money, though, then and once afterward.
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.
Mrs. Wallace was in poor health, too, and spent most of her time in bed.
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.
After that a threat to tell his father curbed him some.
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.
Carm had no taste for books, but was wild to be a railroad man.
"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.
A man in stature and will he came home that time.
Every one outside admired him, and he really seemed a fine man.
His father suggested that he superintend the farm for a year or so, until he decided what he would do.
The Pells had long been gone, and the help outdoors and in was transient.
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!"
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, 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.
Every living creature on the place soon learned to fear and hate him.
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.
His influence over his brothers and the hired men was very bad.
Somebody sent him a fine bird dog, as a present.
"At last," I thought, "he has something that he will be good to."
A friend came to visit him, and, taking Topsy and Bulow, the dog, they went for prairie chickens.
Dr. Dick and I were gone when they returned, but Topsy told me about it.
She said that Bulow seemed so happy on the way out, and that the men sounded his praise continually.
"A fine fellow, worth fifty dollars," was his master's verdict.
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.
Chet grew white with passion.
"Never mind, Wallace," said his friend. "Some dogs—good ones, too—never make retrievers. Something in their early training was wrong."
"Bring those birds here!" roared Chet, paying no heed.
The poor dog trembled from head to foot, but stood as if made of stone.
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.
"Get up and come here!" roared his master.
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.
"Now, go bring that bird here."
"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.
"He'll mind me or I'll brain him," hissed Chet, quite beside himself. "Go!"
Bulow crouched lower and feebly essayed to lick his master's boot.
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.
This just suited the lad.
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 sank in her throat and she lay limp.
It took a long and exciting chase to get hold of another one.
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.
Just then Bobby came out, hearing the boys' shouts of glee.
She screamed at sight of her dead pets, and, flying at the dog, beat him with a piece of board.
"Tom set him on," said Carm.
"I'll tell Uncle Dick, that I will, and papa, too," the angry maiden cried.
"Chet told me to," said Tommy.
"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:
"Old meddler, I'll give you something to make a row about one of these times."
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.
"I'll finish this cat somehow," he said.
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.
Paddy found her when he went for oats.
"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.
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."
"He's jest cussed lazy!"
"Let me handle him."
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?"
The crowd (part of it) laughed, but the rest watched Master earnestly.
"Maybe you have not heard, my good fellow, that there exists in this city to-day a society for the prevention of such 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.
"Mind your own business; this brute belongs to me," was the leering answer.
"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."
The man began to curse and whip the horse.
"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 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.
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.
Moreover, Chet was engaged—"badly engaged," Bobby said—to be married.
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.
Carm had fallen in with a bad lot, and was going the downward way fast.
In a moment of anger his father turned him out of doors, but Master followed him—he was Nannie's boy.
"Find me a place on the railroad, uncle, and I'll reform," he said.
"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."
"But father has turned me out, I must do something."
"I will pay your bills if you will go to school two years and behave yourself."
"I hate books!"
Nevertheless, Master overruled at last, and Carm entered a business college.
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.
"It is so English, you know," she added, sweetly.
When Master heard her, he said:
"You mean so barbarous, don't you?"
"Oh, deah, no," she answered, "all the nabobs and—and tony people have their horses that way."
"All the fools," muttered Master.
"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.
(The doctors were off at a convention, to be gone several days.)
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 heard that a man who is unkind to animals will be equally cruel to woman, or any weak, defenceless thing."
The men looked annoyed. Finally one of them said:
"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.
In a rage Chet spoke out fiercely:
"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."
"Little tattler!" he hissed.
"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.
Bobby screamed once, then stood white and speechless.
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 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.
Near by, in an old shop, Tommy seemed to be attending to something.
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.
There was a storm when the doctors came home and Bobby told her story.
Dr. Fred told his son that he must take his belongings and leave, but the latter refused, saying he had taken the 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.
We used all to pity them so when we saw them harnessed.
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 eye from its socket, and crushing it on her cheek.
"There, you old fool, you haven't any eye now!" he said, with a brutal laugh.
Poor Topsy, launched into perpetual darkness!
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!"