PART IX. THE BRAND OF EUROPE.

[Sidenote: The brand of Europe]

In nature's immense and gentle processes, throughout the amazing

story of the Europe horse, the bewildering actions of forgotten

tribes of men, and the sun's own slow adjustments, a single force

persists in branding the stock with a sign of ownership.

A partial eclipse of the sun had made his figure that of the crescent

moon. Standing under some oak trees, beside the road puddles made by

recent rain, I noticed that the bars of reduced sunlight which came

down through the leafage shone upon the little patches of water. The

image of the crescent sun was reflected upside down.

The bar of sunlight coming down through leafage acts as a lens to the

sun's image. The {50} woodland glade is a camera. The coat of a

woodland animal is coloured by the direct action of light, is

sensitive to light, is a sensitized film for colour photography. To

the peculiar reversed and condensed rays shining through leafage into

the woodland camera, the coat of the horse responds, forming rings of

deeper colour limited to the parts of the animal which are exposed to

direct light. In the course of many generations, the rings become

permanent and are known as dapples. The dappling in the dappled

light of woodlands gives concealment both to hunting leopards and to

hunted horses.

Since dapples have not been traced to any other country, and may well

be native to woodlands of Western Europe, it seems fair reasoning

which gives that special quality of colour to a type we will now

define as the European horse. I do not contend that the woodlands

were more extensive than the open downs, or that any large proportion

of European horses developed dapples. I do contend that a certain

stocky build and well conditioned heaviness of type more or less

dappled is characteristic of Western Europe, just as a more or less

striped Dun is typical of Asia, and more or less striped Bay typical

of Northern Africa.

{51}

[Sidenote: Professor Ridgeway's theories]

I am nothing more than an old rough-neck. My poor little theories

about the Europe horse have the impudence to contradict a great

authority. Professor Ridgeway brings historic proof that the Tarpan,

who is the Prejevalski, the wild Dun of Asia, inhabited the green

pasture of Europe, that he was a small scrawny and foul-tempered

person unfit to ride, and that his crossings with the slender

imported Bay produced our gigantic sturdy and gentle draught horse.

I have ridden so many Duns, packed so many, loved them so much, that

I am sure they would agree with me in bucking hard against Professor

Ridgeway. I do not believe that the Dun wore his tawny colour in

green pastures where he would be a target. I do not believe that the

wild Dun in an average district was small, scrawny or vicious. I do

not believe that a horse of the Dun type could be an ancestor to

draught stock. History is the lens through which we see the

past--out of focus.

Against the evidence of history and the proofs of science, I have

nothing to offer except the common heritage of sight and reason, with

that experience which trains a fellow to interpret landscape and to

care for horses. I cannot expect others to ride as I have through

{52} the green pasturage of Cloudland seeing as I do under the

combed, trim countryside of to-day the fierce rough wilderness of

prehistoric times and of outlandish frontiers. It is not by asking

the way or reading sign-posts that one reasons out the route of a

day's journey, but by a vivid sense of light, form, colour and

atmospheric distance, the old familiar structure of the rocks, the

slopes of drainage, the course of running waters, the shape of woods

and trees as fashioned by the wind, the ancient dangers deflecting

trails and roads, and the phenomena which result in forts and

churches, villages and towns.

[Sidenote: Sensing the country]

So one senses the radiant perfumed land and sees how it shaped and

coloured its native horses. It was from that raw material the

breeder wrought just as a sculptor models clay into his statuary.

Under his hands the wild traits disappeared, the short-sighted pony

grew into a long-sighted hunter, sound hoofs and limbs were softened

to unsoundness, the language of signs gave place to understanding of

human speech, while discipline of the harem and the herd became

obedience in the fields of sport, of labour, or soldier service.

[Sidenote: The dapple sign]

I would not have my reading take the place of thinking, but rather

use books to inspire {53} thought and be thankful to them for

correcting blunders. Thus, aiming at the truth, no matter what I

hit, I see in Western Europe a horse-currency which is of striped

extraction, and, like a coinage in bronze, silver and gold, has

evolved its moorland ponies, its lowland draught stock, and its

upland running breeds. The measure of Bay blood stamps out its

values; and, where one can decipher a device, it is to read the

dapple sign for one of the sun's own kingdoms.

{54}

CHAPTER III.

HABITS OF OUTDOOR HORSES.

I. THE RANGE.

The North American range of the run-wild herds enlarges northward out

of Mexico and covers the region between the Mississippi and the

Pacific Ocean up to the edge of the Northern Forest in Canada. This

gives an area of three million square miles, a range much the same

size as Europe, the United States, Australia, Brazil, or Canada. The

eastern half is a prairie, the western a desert shaped like a swell

of the sea about eight thousand feet high at the top, and laced all

over with a skein of mountain ranges thrown like fisherman's net and

broken all to pieces. Moreover, the southern or higher half of this

desert is cleft to the roots by sheer abysmal chasms known as the

Cañons.

It has been my good fortune to ride from the edge of the Canadian

forest along the general line of the Rocky Mountains to a place just

{55} twenty miles south of Zacatecas in Mexico, which is the southern

boundary of the Stock Range, on the Tropic of Cancer. I have also

ridden from Regina in Saskatchewan to Red Bluff in California. These

two routes cross the grass from north to south, and nearly from east

to west, making a rough total of seven thousand miles.

[Sidenote: The wilderness]

The land as I knew it first had just been stripped naked by the

hunters who swept away almost the whole of its native stock of bison,

deer, and antelope, wild sheep and goats, together with the hunting

animals, such as wolves and panthers who earned a living there. The

land as I saw it next was overstocked with ponies, cattle and sheep,

so that the grass was poor. The land as I saw it last was being

fenced, watered and ploughed by pioneer settlers. In thirty years I

witnessed the passing of the wilderness and its frontiersmen.

A meadow gives a totally false idea of the herbage which built up the

strength and vigour of the ancient pony herds. It is a mixture of

many grasses and other plants all closely turfed together so that a

horse cannot readily select what he likes best. The grass contains a

deal of water, stays green throughout {56} the year and tastes sour

between the teeth. One finds turfed pasture in forests and their

outskirts, and usually where there is rainfall enough for crops, as

in Western Europe and on the eastern half of South Africa. That, I

think, is not the pasture which made the hardy range horse.

[Sidenote: The natural pastures]

Where there is less than eight inches of rain one finds the range

grass, of separate plants with the bare earth between. The three

American kinds are the bunch grass of the hollows, a tall tussock

with tap roots reaching down to moisture; the little buffalo grass

from two to four inches high; and the gramma grass of the same size

which inhabits Mexico.

One may presume that the tussock fed the oldest herds and that, as it

failed, the pony took to eating the shorter grasses.

The horse in a meadow pasture does not eat the ranker growths, but

grazes the shorter, smaller kinds of grass. From this we may reason

that the little buffalo grass of the ranges is the typical food of

the species. The leaves of this plant are green in the spring but

soon cure to a golden tawny colour, which changes to brown in the

autumn, and a washed-out, greyish brown in winter. As they cure, the

leaves curl downwards one by one until the {57} plant becomes a ball

or tuft exceedingly springy underfoot, sweet as a nut in taste, and

equal in food value to standing oats.

[Sidenote: Conditions of the stockrange]

As one approaches the desert the land is sprinkled with bushes which

protect themselves from being eaten with a very strong nasty taste,

or deadly thorns. Of these the sage brush comes first, a thousand

miles wide followed by a thousand miles of greasewood and acacia

varied with forests of cacti. The grass becomes more scanty as one

forces a way onward into the heart of the desert, where there are

regions of naked rock and belts of drifting sand.

As the annual rainfall varies from year to year the desert tracts

expand or shrink by turns. As the winds swing from side to side, or

wax or wane in their supply of moisture, a fertile region is made

desolate for a few centuries as Palmyra, or a desert shrinks before

the spreading pasture. In cycles the desert blossoms or withers, but

with the millions of years it slowly widens.

Such, then, were the conditions of the stockrange to which the

ancient herds had to adapt themselves, learning to dispense with the

shrunken meadows, and make the most of varying crops of bunch grass.

{58}

The taste for green pasture is so far forgotten that range horses

will swim rivers and break fences to escape from the richest of

meadows and get to the desert hillsides which seem to grow nothing

but stones. Where sheep tear the bunch grass out by the roots and

leave stark desert, the horses' lips and teeth are so delicately

adapted to this feeding that they never uproot the plant.

[Sidenote: The grazing rules]

It is a sound rule that range ponies do not travel beyond their

necessities of grass and water. Leaving the water, they graze

outwards, forming a trampled area which widens daily as they feed at

the edges. So, riding across the rich and untouched grass lands of

the south-western deserts, I have come to a line where the pasturage

ended abruptly, and beyond were innumerable pony tracks leading from

six to ten miles to a water hole. The wild horse looked upon that

ring area as the tame horse does a stable, with water and feed

conveniently arranged. That was his home, and if man or the storm,

or wolves drove him a couple of hundred miles away to better feed and

water, he would always break back at the first chance, travelling

steadily with little delay for grazing.

A horse's neck is exactly long enough for {59} grazing on level

ground, but I never saw one try to graze downhill. Neither does he

readily graze directly up any steep place, preferring to quarter

along the hillside, rising very slightly.

[Sidenote: Rules in grazing]

His first rule in grazing then is to crop uphill.

But the moment the air stirs he applies his second grazing rule,

which is "feed up wind."

If he had the man's way of reasoning, he would argue thus, "If I

graze down wind I smell myself, the grass, and the dust. But if I

graze up wind I get the air clean to my nostrils, and can smell an

enemy in time to fight or run."

His third rule is to graze if possible homeward or towards shelter.

If the grass is plentiful he feeds quickly, and has time for rest on

warm sheltered ground or in the lee of timber. If food is scant, he

gets no time for rest.

On the natural range there are hollows to which the surface waters

have carried the ashes of burned grass. These alkali licks are

needed to keep horses in health; but rock salt in the stable seems to

meet their wants. Failing that they will lick brick walls. Even the

licking of a man's hand is a means of getting salt from the skin

rather than making love.

{60}

II. BETWEEN GRASS AND WATER.

The best way to measure the distance and the sort of ground which the

ancient herds were accustomed to traverse between grass and water, is

to study the conduct of a horse in dealing with steep places.

[Sidenote: Horses on cliffs]

I was dining with some friends at Gibraltar when the story was told

of long ago times when a couple of mad midshipmen rode ponies for a

wager up the Mediterranean stairs. This is a stone stairway up the

eastern wall of the Rock which is sheer and some thirteen hundred

feet high. The story had special interest for me because my father

was one of the two mad middies. He had told me that the ponies were

not frightened, except at the last flight of all when the Atlantic

wind was blowing into their faces over the summit. There a step was

missing, the ponies reared, and both lads had to dismount, losing a

wager for which the leader had undertaken the ride.

The ponies were Spanish, of the type which re-stocked North America.

I frightened an English horse into hysterics with such small rock

walls as I could find in Wales, but have never known an American

range animal to show very much alarm. My worst climb was made in

twelve hours, with {61} three horses up a 3,600 foot cliff where a

trail would have been a convenience. The pack and spare horses

pulled hard at times because, although ambitious animals, they would

have preferred some other way to heaven. That is why the lead rope

got under the saddle-horse's tail, which made him buck on a ledge

overhanging blue space where there really was no room. A little

later the led horses pulled my saddle horse over the edge of a crag.

I got off at the top, and the horse lit on his belly across a jutting

rock about twelve feet down. He thought he was done for until I

persuaded him with the lead rope to scramble up again. Near the

summit the oak and juniper bushes forced me to dismount, leading the

horses one at a time under or round stiff overhanging branches on

most unpleasant ground. They showed off a little because they wished

to impress me, but I found out afterwards that horses or even cattle,

held at the foot of that cliff until they are hungry, will climb to

the top for grass. The place is known as The Gateway and leads up

out of the Cañon Dolores in Colorado to the Mesa la Sal in Utah.

Much more dangerous was a 4,000 foot grass slope down from the Mesa

Uncompaghre into the Cañon Unaweep. I managed that by {62} leading

the horses and quartering the slope in zigzags. I was much more

frightened than they were.

[Sidenote: Bad ground]

Many times I have ridden along the rim rock of cliffs of any height

up to a mile sheer, and so far from being afraid, I found some horses

preferred the very edge. One may ride slack rein where one would

never dare to venture afoot.

But although range horses like cliffs, they are poor climbers. One

may ride them up any place where a man can climb without using his

hands, but they will never face a step above knee high. Sometimes I

have been obliged to pass my rope round a tree and pull my horse down

walls that he dared not jump. Even then he would argue the point.

[Sidenote: Horse sense]

American railway bridges have no pathway, and when one leads a horse,

stepping from tie to tie, he thinks he has five legs. With two legs

down, and a train expected or a bear sauntering ahead, he looks so

damned patient that one begins to realise an obscure trait in his

character which needs explaining. It is easier to take him across

bridges than to ride or lead him through a waterfall. He prefers a

waterfall to a corduroy-timbered swamp road when it happens to be

flooded and afloat. I have tried him with quicksands and moss {63}

holes and glare ice on the mountain tops. Because I cannot swim I

have stayed in the saddle swimming lakes, rapids, and rivers which

run sand. Still worse are beaver swamps under a tangle of deadfall

timber, and old avalanches. All these and sundry other kinds of evil

ground a horse accepts as fate so long as he trusts his man. It is

not his business. It is the man's affair. One begins to think that,

like a savage, he lacks continuous purpose of his own and is merely

the meek victim of his destiny. And that is exactly where the man is

fooled. When a horse really wants grass, water, or to get home, he

rivals the white man in sustained purpose, and does his own job with

an intelligence and courage which he never gives to that of his

employer. In other words, the difficulties of travel between grass

and water gave to the ancient ponies the highest possible qualities

of endurance, valour and skill. These qualities are latent in every

horse.

There is a more important lesson to be learned by practical study of

wild range.

The range has two types of herbage, the bunch grass and the thorned

or aromatic bushes. The bunch grass is the staple food, the bushes a

reserve in time of drought. The use {64} of the reserve food has

taught the horse to adapt his stomach to a change of diet.

[Sidenote: The trail to water]

Compared with farm land the range has very little food to the acre,

supports only a small population of grazing beasts, and, in its

distances between food and water, has trained the horse to a deal of

exercise as well as to endurance of thirst. On the other hand the

needs of travelling for water and of grazing have reduced his time

for sleep to about three and a half hours per day, which he takes

standing, however weary, unless he is quite confident as to safety

and kind treatment. In brutally managed stables horses are apt to

sleep standing, because they are not off guard.

At first glance, too, the water on level range, however distant from

the edge of grass may be safely visited. Yet as one approaches the

stream by slopes of the usual coulee, densely bushed with poplar and

wild fruit trees; or, coming down open grass, enters a grove of

cottonwood along the level bottom, one begins to note that the horses

appear to be nervous. A bunch of loose ponies will let the wisest

mare scout ahead while they string out in single file to follow all

alert, picking their way most delicately, pointing their ears at all

sorts of smells and sounds, and glancing backward {65} often as they

go. Again one watches tame horses watering at a trough, always

alert, on guard. If one of them makes a sudden movement the rest

will at once shy backward. Some horse are so nervous that they have

to be watered singly. Always a horse drinks while he can hold his

breath, lifts his nostrils to breathe deep and fill his lungs, then

takes a second drink, perhaps a third, and turns away abruptly.

There is no lingering at the waterside. At the bank of lake or river

no range horse goes deeper then he need, or offers to take a bath.

[Sidenote: Race-memories of peril]

Here are race-memories of mortal peril from a daily watering in face

of instant danger and of sudden death. I have seen so many horses

piteously drowned in moss or mudholes that I understand why they

tread cautiously as they approach wet ground. The bush beside the

water is apt to be full of snakes who come down as horses do, to

drink in the gloaming, and are not easily seen. The bush beside the

water is the lurking place of every beast of prey, and everybody

knows how horses go stark mad at the smell of bear. What chance had

the ponies, strung out on a bush trail, against grey timber wolves?

What thoroughbred fighting horse would ever have a chance against the

{66} Siberian tiger, or the African lion? Cougar, puma, jaguar,

leopard--the cats of all the world with their sudden spring at the

withers or throat of a range pony, have taught his descendants their

art of self-defence. That we must deal with later.

III. THE FAMILY.

We have broken up the family life of our horses, and are apt to

forget that they ever had private affairs of their own.

[Sidenote: The harem]

Twice on the range I have met horse families. On the first occasion

the family happened to be grazing near the trail as I passed. The

stallion was furious at my intrusion, trotted up to me and stood

glaring, pawing the ground, his great neck arched and splendid mane

and tail rippling astream in the high wind. My saddle and pack

beasts, a pair of gentle geldings, were rather frightened, disposed

to halt, even to run away but for my voice keeping them to their

duty. The stallion's mares had stopped grazing to admire their

master, each with an observant eye cocked at me and an expression of

smugness not to be beaten in any Bigotarian chapel. Then, as I

laughed, the stallion, with a loud snort of contempt, swung round,

lashed dirt in my face for defiance, and trotted off to round up his

harem and drive them out {67} of reach lest my evil communications

should corrupt their morals.

On the second occasion I took a half-broken pack-train into a pasture

on the bench of a cañon, so that the spring grass might cure an

epidemic of strangles which had killed seven and sorely weakened the

rest. The pasture belonged to a wild stallion who lived there with

his family of young mares, colts and foals. He stole my twenty-five

mares, added them to his harem, and made off. I was obliged to build

a corrall, round up the whole bunch, cut out my mares, and drive the

harem out of the district. Meanwhile my stock had lapsed from

civilised ways and become wild beasts who had to be broken all over

again before it was possible to use them for pack-train work.

They say that a horse family depends in size upon the powers of the

strongest stallion, who rises to command by fighting and defeating

all competitors, and holds his command by single combat with the

leaders of rival families who try to rob him.

[Sidenote: The commanding stallion]

The commandant stallion is able to hold a family of fifteen to fifty

head, but there must be some who by conquest of rival leaders, and

stealing of their harems, rise to commands on a much larger scale.

Ranging his family {68} between grass and water, he is most

particular to close herd his mares, to hold his own pasture which he

never leaves except under dire stress, and to have special places

where he casts his droppings. In range life the geldings have

separate families, and their own private runs.

There is not very much known about the internal arrangements of wild

harems, but a good deal can be guessed from watching the Red Indian's

pony herd, the Cow outfit's bunch of remounts, the Mexican remuda,

the Argentine tropilla, the stock of a horse ranch, or even a herd

camp of Mounted Police, all units of horses living more or less the

wild life of the range. From these it is known that a feral pony

herd keeps a certain military formation while grazing, with the

weaker animals ringed by the stronger, and a few vedettes and

flankers thrown out to watch for danger. At the assault of a wolf

pack the formation closes, the fighting horses and mares making an

outer ring, close-set and facing outwards. When a wolf comes within

range, the nearest horse swings round and lashes out with the hind

feet to kill. As American wolves only pack in winters of famine this

event is rare, but in one case an Indian boy who was herder to a

Blackfoot tribal camp, was, with his mount, placed {69} by the

fighting herd at their centre for his defence, and was able to watch

the whole battle until his people came out to the rescue.

In breeding and fighting the Commandant stallion is sole authority,

but it has been noticed that some wise old mare usually decides the

time for moving and leads the marches.

It is said that a foal is able to keep with the travelling herd from

the day of birth. It is said that the foal will outlast a hard day's

journey--and dies afterwards. To what extent this may be true I have

no means of knowing, but I believe that the leggy foal does keep up

with a moving herd. It is one more bit of evidence as to the

desperate emergencies of drought or storm survived by the ancient

herds.

IV. SELF-DEFENCE.

[Sidenote: Self-defence]

There is a general belief among horse that man is vicious. If he

were a little more intelligent we could explain to the horse that

appearances are deceptive, and that we are not really vicious when we

throw things at each other such as shells, torpedoes and bombs, or

lay mines to blow each other to pieces on land or sea. As it is, he

bases his belief that we are vicious upon our methods of dealing with

him, in the use for example, of bearing reins, of {70} branding

irons, and instruments which dock tails.

My own impression, after many years of experience with both, is that

man, and especially civilised man, is much more ferocious than the

horse. May I venture then to quote the wisdom of a gentle Bengali

Baboo who wrote an essay as follows:

"The horse is a highly intelligent animal, and, if you treat him

kindly, he will not do so."

The discovery was made in Arabia, also in Kentucky, in Ireland and

elsewhere, that if a foal is handled as a pet, and so brought up that

he remembers nothing but kindness and constant care at the hands of

men, it never occurs to him that he needs to defend himself from his

master as from an enemy. He never develops the arts of self-defence.

As a colt he learns that to get at his feed he must jump over a stick

on the ground. As he grows the stick is raised inch by inch until

jumping over it becomes a part of his accomplishments in which he

takes a natural pride and delight. So with the rest of his

education. Horses can learn a great deal of the language we speak,

to enjoy music, to select colours, to add up figures, to take a vivid

interest in sport, to share with us the terror and glory of battle.

{71} They will set us an example in faithfulness, in self-sacrifice,

and every finer trait of character.

But if we teach a young horse nothing but distrust, making fear and

hatred the main traits of his character, it is the last outrage upon

common sense to call his honest methods of self-defence by such a

name as vice. We have the power to raise up angels or devils, but if

we breed a horse to be a devil, we cannot expect the poor beast to

behave himself like an angel.

[Sidenote: Varieties of character]

Horses vary in character almost as much as we do, and there are with

them as with us a small proportion of born criminals whose warped or

stunted brains cannot be trained aright by any means we know. What

we do not and can never understand is the mysterious power of saints

who charm wild men and beasts to tameness, and of certain horsemen to

whom the worst outlaws are perfectly obedient.

Among ourselves there are certain dreams such as the falling dream,

the flying dream, and that of being eaten by wild beasts, which are

supposed to be race-memories dating from the time when man was a

forest animal like an ape, before the immortal Spirit entered into

his body.

Among horses there are race-memories dating from ancient times in the

wilderness when {72} the pony was driven to self-defence on pain of a

violent death. These race memories take the form of habits, and

explain the various methods by which the horse defends himself from

human enemies.

Pawing, for example, is the subject of many theories. Not that the

habit really needs explanation, because we fidget ourselves when we

have nothing better to do. Yet when a horse paws the water at any

drinking place, the learned are apt to say he does it to clear away

the mud. I doubt if any horse is such a fool. Other observers note

that the action is really stamping, a motion of race-memory dating

from the time when thin ice had to be tested to see if a frozen river

could be safely crossed. That sounds most reasonable, until one

wonders dimly how it accounts for either pawing or stamping on dry

ground.

[Sidenote: Race memories]

If then the fidgets must be explained by any theory of race memory,

one would suppose that the gestures used in killing snakes or in

scraping through snow to get grass might very well have come down

through the ages. I think though that if I had four hoofs and an

irritable temper, I might be allowed to indulge in cow-kicking or

striking without my symptoms being used as a pretext for abusing my

dead ancestors.

{73}

We have seen that the old range harem adopted military formations,

and went into action well organized for defence against wolves. They

kicked, but any range cow, addressed on the subject of milking,

without hereditary training as a kicker, can give points to the

average horse. Yet where the cow is merely obstinate the horse is

reasonable.

[Sidenote: Horse mastership]

He is marvellously swift as a critic of the horseman, ready to kick

the same abundantly at the slightest sign of ineptitude or nerves, or

to render a cheery obedience to one who understands. The man who

walks nervously through a stable making abrupt movements to avoid

possible heels is sure to be criticised with contusions by any horse

with a decent sense of humour. Yet if one understands the signs of

thrown-back ears and balancing in readiness for the kick, one has

only to tell the animal not to play the fool, then watch his

shamefaced grin at being found out. It is so easy to charm the most

irritable horse with a little hay while one is busy with him in the

stall. He cannot, like a man, think of two things at once, and in

military stables, horse-masters who have their grooming done while

the horses feed will find that even dangerous kickers become gentle.

That is of course contrary to much theory and {74} more army

practice; yet it is not forbidden, and being easily tested is well

worth trying before it is condemned.

[Sidenote: Kicking]

Having nearly cured my horses of kicking, I am still extremely

anxious to persuade young horsemen to get as close as possible to a

horse while grooming him, so that no kicker has room to deliver the

full force of the blow, which may be fatal. Horses are very careless

among themselves, kicking each other for fun while they forget that

the iron shoe may break a leg. I have noticed also that a horse who

deliberately gets himself disliked will very soon be the victim of

organized attack, a comrade being told off by the rest to lay for

him. In this way during the last six months I have been obliged to

have four horses shot for fractured legs.

Horses in pasture will often stand in pairs, head to tail abreast, so

that each with his whisk of tail can keep flies from the other's

face. One will nibble and lick along the other's neck and withers

out of kindness, adding a bite or two for fun. So in the stable,

horses bite one another for fun, but if they apply the treatment to a

man it is a sure sign they are badly educated, and liable to get

their noses smacked for their pains.

{75}

[Sidenote: Faults and remedies]

PIG-JUMPING is the plunging action which civilised horses suppose to

be genuine bucking. It is not so much self-defence as an expression

of joy.

KANGAROO-JUMPING is unusual, but must be great sport for a horse who

knows the trick. It never fails to astonish.

REARING. To cure a rearing horse, throw him on his near side. When

ready to throw, draw the rein taut, the off rein tightest; then as he

rears, keep the left toe in the near stirrup, but get the right free

of the off stirrup with the knee on the horse's rump, for a purchase

as you throw your body suddenly to the left. The Horse loses his

balance and crashes to the ground while you step clear. As you do so

draw the taut off rein back and low to the pommel. So you will raise

the head and prevent horse from rising.

Never strike a horse on the head for rearing.

BOLTING AND STAMPEDES. Horses were trained by wolves and other

dangers of the range to run at the warning neigh of their stallion

commanding. Sudden and blind panic is a trait innate in the horse

character, and the best preventive is the human voice. Singing hymns

or any familiar songs in chorus is the very best way of preventing a

stampede; but, {76} judging by my own voice, is rather apt to panic

any horse who has a good ear for music.

[Sidenote: Balking]

BALKING. There is a story of a New England farm horse drawing a load

of hay, whose master had no influence with him. After trying for an

hour to persuade the animal to move, he made a bonfire under its

belly. When the flames caused him discomfort, the horse moved

on--eight feet, exactly enough to bring the bonfire underneath the

hay.

Tap quickly with a whip behind his knees, hitting them alternately.

He will mark time then walk to get away from the whip. I heard

lately of a stranger who walked up to a balking horse, rolled a

cigarette paper and placed it carefully in the animal's ear, then led

him unresisting along the road. Mr. Horse was wondering, 'Why the

deuce did he put that thing in my ear?' He forgot to balk. No horse

can think of two things at the same time.

BALKING AT A GALLOP. Whereas refusing to start is evidence of a

misguided past, the sudden refusal to take a jump may indicate that

the horse lacks confidence in his rider, or that the reins are very

badly handled, giving him no chance of taking off with head free.

{77}

To balk at a gallop means throwing the body back and bearing against

the ground with all four feet, head down.

PROPPING. This is balking at a gallop and taking a series of springs

in that position, each with a rigid crash on all four legs. The

rider has a tendency to continue his journey alone. Propping is much

favoured by range horses.

This completes the list of defensive measures remembered by civilised

horses.

[Sidenote: Little ways]

TREADING. They have also invented a few methods of expressing their

feelings. When a horse presses his hand on my foot, and adds to the

tenderness of the greeting by waving his other hand, I know he means

to impress me, although I may not have leisure at the moment to hear

what he has to say.

TAKING IN THE SLACK. When a horse takes the seat of my breeches

firmly between his teeth as I try to mount, he may not wish me to

ride, or possibly he wishes to criticise the English riding costume.

Breeches with puffed sleeves are perhaps an acquired taste.

CROWDING. A horse may corner or crowd me when I try to leave the

stall after feeding him, and if he hugged me he could do no more to

express his pleasure. But if he will not let me re-enter his stall

while he feeds, I suspect some {78} groom has been stealing his oats

from the manger.

JOGGLING. Soldier horses on the march are obliged to keep the pace

set by the leading file. If that pace is beyond their walk, they

keep up by joggling. To break a joggling horse to a walk, stand in

the stirrups, place the free hand on his neck, and bear with the

whole weight of your body.

To return now to defensive methods.

BUCKING. To lower the head, and spring into the air, humping the

back, drawing the feet close together, and coming down on all four

rigid, for the next spring. Repeat. It is useful when starting a

spring with the head north to twist in the air and come down facing

south; or to make the series of jumps in a narrow circle and then

bolt at a tangent; or to buck on the run, dislodging the rider first,

then the saddle which can be kicked to pieces. If the rider is

dragged his brains can be kicked out.

SUNFISHING. To buck, coming down on both hind feet and one fore,

while doubling up the other free limb. This brings one shoulder to

the ground, and to sunfish is to drop alternate shoulders. Very few

horses know this exercise.

{79}

SCRAPING. To run or buck under low branches or against trees or

walls. Some civilised horses know this.

BACKFALLS. These may be used to add to the general effect of either

rearing or bucking. I once bought a black mare seven years old,

snared in the forest, who had probably never seen a man. When ridden

she bucked, and while bucking threw herself seven times on her back,

three falls being over a cut bank on to a rocky river bed. Towards

evening she cricked her neck, and showed blood at the nostrils,

making an awful picture of despair. During the night she slipped a

foal, of which there had been no sign. Before dawn she died--a case

of broken heart. The horse breaker, an English gentleman, stayed

with her throughout, and was not hurt.

[Sidenote: Acts of passion]

So far we have dealt with acts of hot-blooded passion, culminating in

suicidal rage. The fiercest buckers, having dislodged the rider,

will turn at once to grazing and wait with cheerful defiance for the

next bout. Almost all horses are sportsmen and there is nothing that

they dread more, or are so careful to avoid as treading upon a

disabled man. Even in cavalry charges a man down has only to lie

still so that the horses can see exactly where he {80} is, and they

will all leap clear. They dread placing a foot on anything which

might collapse or roll, and so cause a dangerous fall.

[Sidenote: Man killing]

There remain extreme cases in which horses are guilty of deliberate,

planned murder.

SAVAGING is practised by civilised as well as by range horses. It is

a sudden, and often unprovoked, wide-eyed staring rush with teeth

bared, an attempt either to inflict a dangerous bite or to get a man

down and trample him to death.

HOLDING WIND. The only case I know of was that of a fine buckskin

gelding for whom I paid a rifle, a suit of clothes and ten dollars in

trade with an Indian. It seemed impossible to get the girth properly

tight until, after three days, I concluded that my suspicion of his

holding wind was merely foolishness. All the same I used to regirth

a mile or two out on each march. I had regirthed at the top of a

mountain pass, and was mounting, when he suddenly let out all his

wind and bolted over rock heaps. The saddle came down with me on the

off side, I was dragged, and afterwards woke up to find myself maimed

for life. Then we had a fight, which he won. It turned out

afterwards that holding wind until he could catch out and kill his

rider was an old accomplishment for which {81} the horse was famous.

This is the only case I have known of unprovoked, carefully planned,

and deliberate crime, as distinguished from self-defence.

Vices are human qualities. The worst possible vices with regard to a

horse are,

To show fear.

Meanness or neglect in fending for him.

Cruelty or ill-temper.

V. THE SPIRIT OF THE HORSE.

[Sidenote: Spirit of the horse]

The young of the church and of the universities who know all about

everything, and attach a deal of importance to their funny little

opinions, are quite agreed that the lower animal is an "it" as

automatic as a slot machine. Put in a penny and the machine utters a

box of matches. Put in food and the animal develops energy. So much

is perfectly true of animals and men, for our bodies are automatic.

Moreover, the animal has "instincts" which impel "it" to beget a foal

or a litter of puppies. Humans, with the same instincts are impelled

to beget a bumptious young bacteriologist, or a pair of curates.

In a like way the wolf, the Christian, or the tiger mates with one

wife, while the horse and the Moslem both prefer a harem.

{82}

Shall we say, then, that the wolf is the more religious, or the horse

not quite so respectable?

[Sidenote: The horse spiritual]

A certain Sergeant Parker, of the Northwest Mounted Police, went on

patrol with a saddle horse. They got lost in a blizzard, and in the

succeeding calm the man became snowblind. On the seventh day, the

horse saw an outfit of freighters passing in the distance. He ran to

their sleighs. He whinneyed to the horses, who understood his talk,

and he beckoned to the men, who were not so clever. Then the men

noticed that his belly was terribly swollen by long pressure of the

girth. They followed him. At a distance of one and a half miles

they came to a tract of prairie with the snow grubbed up where the

horse had been scratching for grass. In the midst was a heap of snow

like the mound of a grave, on which lay Sergeant Parker in seeming

death. His long delirium, beginning with visions of angels and

closing with a dream of meat-pies, had ended in coma just at the

verge of death; while the horse stayed on guard until it was possible

to get him rescued. So much was told me afterwards by the man.

The other day in France a British soldier was killed, whose horse

remained with the body for two days, out in the zone between the {83}

opposing armies, exposed to a hurricane of fire beyond example,

refusing to be rescued, moved by a love stronger than death.

[Sidenote: The horse immortal]

The young of the clergy will tell us all about the lower animal who

does not subscribe to the tenets of the church, and so must perish

everlastingly despite the Father's care. Yet if they read the

Prophets and the Revelations they will find chariots of fire, and see

in visions the deathless chargers ridden by Archangels. Are all the

Hosts of Heaven infantry? We have the full authority of the Holy

Bible for an idea that horses may be immortal.

But then the young of science have assured us that the clergy talk a

deal of nonsense, and that the Holy Scriptures are so much folk lore.

Our modern teachers, unused to sleeping outdoors, have never seen the

great heavens thrown open every night. They believe in nothing they

have not seen, and those I meet have not seen very much. To them the

lower animal is hardly a personal friend, but rather an automaton

steered by instincts, built on much the same principles as a

dirigible torpedo. The "instincts" have to account for deeds which

in a man would be attributed to love or valour.

I often meet young people who gently wave {84} aside my life

experience while they crush me with some religious or scientific

tenet to which they attach importance. Sometimes this bias has

caused total blindness, more often they lack sympathy; but any horse

can teach fellows who have eyes to see with, and hearts to

understand. Then they will realise in him a personality like that of

a human child.

I do believe that there are men and horses in whom the spirit burns

with so mighty and secure a strength that it cannot be quenched by

death; and that there are others in whom the flame burns low or has

been blown out.

[Sidenote: The horse psychic]

Everybody has acquaintances who possess a certain sense, not yet

quite understood, which enables them to read unspoken thoughts; to

see events in the past, the distance, or the future as happening to

their friends; or to be conscious of certain states of the atmosphere

produced by strong human emotions; or to see or hear phenomena which

some folk attribute to discarnate spirits. Such people are called

psychic, and, if they use their powers as a means of earning money,

they are defined as frauds. As a blind man does not deny the

existence of eyesight, so, if I am not psychic myself, I have no call

to decry the honest people who possess this gift. I have heard {85}

stories told in all good faith of dogs and horses showing uneasiness

and alarm at apparitions which men failed to see, of so-called

"ghosts," for example, in places which had been the scene of a

violent death. Without careful investigation one can scarcely treat

such tales as evidence; but it is quite possible that some horses,

like some women, are strongly psychic.

[Sidenote: Sense of humour]

That horses have a crude sense of humour is known to every horseman.

To rip the cap off a groom's head and drop it in the water is the

sort of joke which appeals to a horse or a little boy. Once I was

standing beside a friend who sat in a dog-trap, and each of us

enjoyed a glass of beer while we passed the time of day. Just for

fun the pony drank half my beer, but when I brought him a bowl of the

same, pretended to be an abstainer. That pony would visit his

master's dining-room of a morning to remove the covers and inspect

the dishes for breakfast.

Another friend of mine once had a horse named Kruger, black roan with

a white star on each flank. It had been his life's ambition to be a

skewbald, and disappointment had lopped both ears over a glass eye,

so that he looked like the very Devil. A greyhound body, long legs

and a mincing gait completed his {86} unusual list of beauties. Some

fourteen years after my friend had sold out and left that country,

accident brought me to Fire Valley, British Columbia, and dire need

of a new pack animal constrained me to buy the horse. Perhaps for

political reasons, or to evade the police, by this time old Kruger

had changed his name to Spot. Frightened of him at first, my partner

and I discovered his great talents as a pack-horse. Besides that, he

was brave, loyal, and gentle, and above all things humorous. A rough

passage of mountains brought us to settlement, where men would laugh

at Spot, but horses never dared. One had only to say "Sick 'em!" as

to a dog, and Spot would round up all the horses in sight and chase

them. His face was that of a fiend save for a glint of fun in the

one eye he had for business. For about fourteen hundred miles he

spread terror before him, stampeding bunches of loose horses but

always coming back with a grin, as though he said, "Now, ain't I the

very Devil?"

[Sidenote: The horse comrade]

In the North-west Mounted Police, a detachment of us used to ride

down bareback with led horses to water at the ford of Battle River.

Close by was a wire cable for the ferry. On one occasion, my horse

as he left the water turned under the cable to scrape me {87} off his

back. Failing in that, he returned higher up the bank, and this time

I was scraped off into a pool of dust. Out of that brown explosion

of dust, I looked up in time to see his malicious pleasure in a

successful joke.

And so one might set forth instances by the score, all to the same

monotonous effect, that humans and horses have a sense of humour.

[Sidenote: Limitations and tricks]

Please imagine a man to have his hands and feet replaced by boxes of

horn such as the hoofs of a horse, and that, so disabled, he is tied

by the head in a cell. Reduced to the conditions of horse-life in a

stable, the man would be as clever as a horse in the use of lips and

teeth. He would slip his headstall or break his head-rope, open the

door and escape until such time as the need for food and water drove

him back to prison. When asked to go to work, he might give a clever

impersonation of a lame horse. He might also copy the trick of the

beggar horse who gives the love call to every man who enters the

stable, fooling each of them with the flattery of special homage, a

sure way to gifts of sugar, apples or carrots. Or he might copy the

horse who whiles away dull times by keeping a pet cat, or bird, or

puppy. It seems odd, too, that the most dangerous human outlaws and

man-slaying horses are {88} gentle with small animals and children.

So long as we punish unoffending horses with imprisonment in dark

cells, we may expect them to show traits of character evolved by the

treatment of prisoners in the Middle Ages.

Horses, dogs, and men are oddly alike, too, in the way they dream,

with twitchings of the limbs to illustrate great exertion, and

snortings, murmurs and groans, which take the place of speech.

So horses just like humans are dour or cheery, truculent or cheeky,

humorous or stolid, some with a lofty sense of dignity, while others

behave like clowns. Some horses are like some children, exacting

until they are petted, while other children and horses hate to be

pawed. Both will sulk or quarrel, play the fool or grumble, make

intimate friendships or bitter enemies. I think, though, that the

love of sport, and the desire to excel are much more general with

horses than with children.

[Sidenote: The horse musical]

In a military camp I asked some women to tea, and turned loose a few

Beethoven records on the gramaphone. At the first tune all the

horses in pasture assembled at the fence, stood to attention while

the music lasted, and when it was over scattered off to grass. They

certainly love music. At the same camp, by {89} some mysterious

means they got wind of the fact that twenty of them were to be sent

away. Until the detachment actually marched off, their conduct, for

twenty-four hours on end, was sulky and mutinous. Afterwards both

groups immediately mended their manners.

[Sidenote: Signals]

Everybody who lives with horses learns that they exchange

confidences, arrange for concerted action and try to tell us their

troubles. Nobody knows how they talk, few of us can tell what they

are talking about, but so far as the evidence goes they seem to

express their feelings rather than their thoughts. Here then are a

few of their signals:

(1) When a horse throws his ears to point forward and down, and he

makes a short, sharp snort it means "Wheugh! Look at that now!" If

he throws himself back on his haunches while he points and snorts, it

means: "Oh, Hell!" If he points, snorts and shies a few yards

sideways in the air, he is playing at being in a terrible fright. It

means: "Bears!" He is not really frightened, for when he is tired

out he will pass a railway engine blowing off steam without taking

the slightest notice.

(2) One ear lopped forward and the other back, head sideways, gait

sidelong, may be {90} defined in the words of a learned Hindu: "Sir,

the horse with which your Honour entrusted me has been behaving in a

highly obstreperous and devil-may-care manner."

[Sidenote: Horse speech]

(3) The love call is a little whinney, soft, sweet and low.

(4) The demand for food is a rumbling neigh.

(5) A cheery neigh greeting other horses in passing means: "How d'ye

do!"

(6) A loud trumpet peal of neighing at short intervals is a demand,

sometimes a piteous appeal to other horses to join company.

(7) The groan of great pain is the same as that of a man, and may be

attended by crying, when tears run from the nostrils. The sound is

heart-rending, beyond endurance.

(8) The scream is only uttered in sudden and mortal agony as from

burning, or from some kinds of wounds received in battle.

[Sidenote: Signs and protests]

(9) Ears thrown back even ever so slightly express anger, but thrown

back along the neck mean fighting rage. In wild life the fights

between stallions are mainly with the teeth, and horses forced to

fight as a sport for men, as in ancient Iceland, rear up against one

another, striking as well as biting. The ears are thrown back to

save them from being bitten.

{91}

(10) Rage and pretended anger are expressed by a sudden squeal, the

signal of attack.

(11) Gestures of pain.

Stamping is merely impatience.

Pawing may be due to colic. If also the animal sweats and keeps

looking at his flank, there is certainly pain in the abdomen.

Pointing with a forefoot. When standing, a horse rests his hind legs

by changing weight from one to the other at intervals of a minute.

As he has no mechanism to do this with the fore limbs, he expresses

pain in one of them by pointing the foot forward. He rests better

facing down a slope then facing up as in a stable, and when in pain

may be relieved by tying to the stanchion instead of to the manger.

Dragging the fore foot means injury to the shoulder.

Head out, chin up, feet apart, and sweating, mean that the chap is

choking.

Head down and tail tucked in, mean misery or sickness.

(12) Gestures of joy.

Bright eyes, a glossy coat, head carried proudly, and tail high, dry

nostrils, hard droppings, free movement, and a willing gait are signs

most eloquent of health. To pass the time of day with other horses,

shy at the {92} clouds, paw the moon, and dance, with pig jumping or

even a little bucking after breakfast, are signals of youth, joy and

good fellowship.

Then one may watch the play of the nostrils making a thousand

comments on scents borne in the air, while the ears will point and

quiver to all sorts of sounds beyond man's hearing. The mood will

change from sober thoughtfulness in the shadow of clouds or trees, to

sheer intoxication of delight with sparkling frost, dew on the

flowers, sunshine in the skies. No creature on earth expresses

feeling with sweeter quickness than a happy horse.

(13) Nuzzling is sometimes an appeal for help, more often an

expression of loving sympathy.

[Sidenote: Thought transference]

(14) Nothing so far explains how a couple of horses will put their

heads together, touch nostrils, and in a second come to some sort of

mutual understanding, which leads to immediate concerted action such

as the bolting of a team. In one or two cases I am not sure that the

nostrils actually touched. In many cases when I saw nostrils rubbed

together or the beard bristles in contact, no sound was made within

the compass of my hearing. Neither were there such lip movements as

would be {93} made by speech, nor was there any self-conscious,

found-out expression in the faces of conspirators caught plotting

against the white men.

When I have been in company with some very dear friend, and one of us

would answer out loud to an unspoken thought of the other, or both of

us were moved to say the same thing in the like words, we called that

thought-transference. When my horse came to me in camp, and standing

behind caressed my neck or ear with his lips or nostril trying by

thought-transference to tell me all about his pain or sorrow, he

might get his face slapped before I realised exactly what he said.

Only as I learned to welcome horses when they came to me, I seemed to

sense their feelings. They converse among themselves by

thought-transference, and try to speak that way to men they trust.

[Sidenote: Thought transference]

The barriers between horse and man are tremendous. Think what it is

for a fastidious creature, with powers of scenting which can descry

clean standing water at nearly five miles without wind, to come near

a meat-eating creature like a man, powerfully and offensively

scented. Suffering from nausea without obtaining the relief

permitted to a {94} man, the horse must overcome an intense dislike

before he accepts our friendship. He senses our defects of

cowardice, cruelty or selfishness, perhaps drunkenness, vices

out-ranging his capacity for evil. He knows that we are physically

small, slow, sometimes even lacking in muscular strength. Yet taking

us all in good part, he submits his will to an intellectual force,

grasp and speed which seem to him supernatural, and to an authority

which he venerates as divine.

{95}

CHAPTER IV.

THE CONQUEST OF THE HORSE.

We have now some vague idea of the ancient horse; so it is well we

should know what manner of man was the savage who caught and tamed

him.

Living a great deal, and travelling much alone among savages I have

been more or less tolerated; and the savage has told me what he

thinks of the white man. He looks upon the scientist as an

amateurish unpractical sort of person who cannot ride or cook. The

missionary can be profitably humbugged. The tourist is a source of

revenue but apt to be intrusive and ill-mannered. As to the cinema

folk, one tribe of savages refused to play any more because they were

defeated in every film. They were granted one massacre of the whites

to cheer them up.

[Sidenote: The savage]

So the scientific men, the missionary, the cinema people and many

others bring home impressions which would amuse the savage. {96} Our

people are so badly informed that they suppose the savage to be

dirty, ferocious, immoral and uncouth as the Sydney larrakin, the

cockney rough, the New York tough and other poor degenerates of our

race. It is true that the Fuegans were dirty, but we should not

speak ill of the dead. Some South Sea island tribes are cheerfully

ferocious, and make much of the white man at table although he does

taste salty. The Pathan, if one calls him a savage, takes a delight

in immorality. But uncouth? The commonality of the English-speaking

nations have a deliberate preference for ugly costume and

decorations, foul speech is usual among men, vulgarity is a privilege

of both sexes, and awkwardness of bearing is almost universal. Who

are we to call the savage uncouth? Compared with a white man, the

savage is a gentleman anyway and usually sets us an example in purity

of speech, often in cleanliness, chastity, and good faith. He

differs from the healthier types of white men in having slightly less

energy and vitality, in lack of sustained purpose and in being never

quite grown up. Except in Africa, our microbes and not our valour

conquered him, and his failure to rival us in material progress was

due to lack of material rather than want of {97} brains. The

ferocious savage of fiction could not have tamed the horse.

It is quite likely that men killed and ate ponies for ages before it

occurred to our ancestors that the creatures would be a deal more

useful alive. But how was Four-feet overtaken and killed by

Two-feet? Science has nothing to say on that point. We are not told.

Science has discovered that in Western Europe there were various

phases of culture which are called (1), the Eolithic, when men used

natural stones for weapons, (2) the old Stone Age, when flints were

flaked to make spear and arrow points, (3) and the new Stone Age,

when stones for weapon heads were ground and polished, (4) the Bronze

Age, (5) and the Iron Age. It is true that flaking flints for

flint-lock guns continues in England in face of all theories of the

Neolithic, because a flaked flint will make sparks, whereas a ground

flint won't. It is also true that Europe is the only part of the

world with flints for flaking. The general application of the theory

is also a little difficult on the Western American range, where there

are fine silicate stones; but, in defiance of the Neolithic culture,

the savages persist in flaking them for spear and arrow points while

they {98} deliberately grind stones for club heads, axe heads, and

mortars. Still worse, the debauched Eskimo grind and carve stone

lamps, but in their heathen blindness use bone and ivory for the

heads of harpoons and bird darts. The savages I have known belonged

to the Old Bone Age.

[Sidenote: The hunter]

How then with his slow feet and poor weapons was the hunter to

surprise the alert sentries of a pony herd, get within range before

they fled like the wind, or drive a bone-tipped spear through the

shaggy hair?

It seems to me that man, like other hunting animals, despairing of

getting meat from a pony herd on the range, would lie in ambush near

the watering places, and where the ponies had to string out on a

narrow trail they were caught at a disadvantage. There spear and

arrow could earn abundant meat. Outside the bush, too, the valley or

cañon walls had caves and defensible places where a tribe could lodge

within easy reach of game, water and fuel.

In the South-western desert of America I have seen hundreds of cave

and cliff villages, some even occupied by surviving tribes whose

methods of hunting and location and defence would correspond with

those of the more {99} primitive pony hunters of prehistoric France.

It seems, too, that those hairy aborigines who split pony bones for

marrow may possibly have known the daintiest dish of Red Indian

cookery, Crow entrail, more politely known as Absaroka Sausage.

In savage tribes there is a rule that a man of the Smith sept may not

marry among the Smiths, but seeks his bride among the Browns or

Robinsons. But the septs are usually called after some animal, so

that for Smith we may read Pony, for Brown we may read Eagle, for

Robinson say Wolf. Moreover, the children play a game of two sides

in which Master Wolf impersonates a wolf with cries and dances, and

if the rival side laughs they pay forfeit. So Miss Pony plays at

pony, and Master Eagle plays at being an Eagle. Out of this game

perhaps comes a play of the grown-ups; in which I have seen a

candidate for the secret society of the Healers impersonate his

tribal Bear or Beaver before the Doctors of the order who admitted

him to their circle. This play may be the origin of a mystic rite

known as Calling the Game. For certain Doctors can wear a wolf skin,

and give so beautiful an imitation of a wolf that all the deer and

bison are deceived. His job is to excite their {100} curiosity so

that, as he draws slowly away, the herds will follow him. The nearer

animals draw back with misgiving, but those in the rear press on to

get a view until, as the wolf-man gathers speed, the moving herd runs

hard. It is then that they find themselves running between

converging lines of stone piles, and women jump up from behind these

cairns waving their robes and yelling. The herd stampedes to the

edges of a sheer cliff, too late to check their pace after the

leaders have seen the peril ahead. The rush of the herd drives

onward into space, and hundreds, even thousands of great beasts fall

headlong to lie dead or mangled in heaps on the rocks below. So the

tribe assembles for great feasting, and heavy labour.

[Sidenote: The trap]

The hides were needed for clothing, shields, tents, and rope; the

brains for dressing skins; the sinews and guts for bow-strings,

lashings and thread; the hoofs and horns for weapon points, hafts,

handles, spoons, cups, window lights, and glue, which mixed with oil

made a dressing for leather; the gall for cleansing; the hair for

felting or weaving; the fat for lamp oil and candles. The meat in

large flakes was sun-dried for storage. The dried meat, pounded,

mixed with berries and filled {101} with melted fat made pemmican,

the best of winter foods.

Where there were no cliffs over which a herd could be driven, the

practice of calling the game was just the same, but the narrowing

avenue of stone heaps led to the gate of a ring fence into which the

big game were penned for slaughter.

This ring fence has many countries, many names, being the pound or

corrall of North America, jaral of Mexico, kraal of Africa, keddah of

India, circus of Rome, bull-ring of Spain and old England. With the

advancing ages the perching of spectators on the fence became the

Auditorium of the circus, Stadium, and Colosseum, and the baiting of

beasts and men, the wild beast fights, the mimic battles, and

martyrdom of saints, varied the savage programme with racing,

tournaments, and athletic sports.

So far as our subject is concerned, however, one need only note that

herds of wild animals, the fighting males, the mothers and their

young of many species much too swift for men to run down in the open,

were captured alive and unhurt. Among these were ponies with their

mares and foals.

[Sidenote: Pets]

The pity for young animals and the love of {102} pets are native

traits in human character, and universal among savages.

The savage hunter brought kittens and puppies into camp to be the

playthings of his wife and children, and from these pets descend the

whole of our cats and dogs. And in the tribal captures at the

corralls were all sorts of young animals claimed by the women and

children because they were not worth killing. These ponies, cattle,

deer, sheep, goats and antelope grew up with human kind, glad to get

shelter from the wolves at night, allowed to graze in safety outside

the camp by day. If they proved useful the men were tolerant. The

useful kinds were even protected at grass by boys told off as

herders, to run them into camp at the first sign of danger.

[Sidenote: Milch mares]

The mother who ran dry of milk, saw foals getting milk from the

mares, and would have mare's milk for her child. The mares who gave

most milk were preferred to others. From this came the natural idea

of breeding from good milch mares to improve the strain, and get a

larger yield. And thus the use and value grew of mare's milk with

its many preparations as a staple food for children, then of

grown-ups, until the practice of herding tame horse stock became

general among the hordes {103} of Asia. Since then it has been found

that cows gave more and better milk than mares.

As the wild game migrated between their high summer range and their

lowland wintering grounds the savage tribes followed in search of

meat. With the beginning of the pastoral age the need was urgent of

moving the flocks and herds between the summer and the winter

pastures. But as yet there were no beasts of draught or burden to

carry the tribal camp. That meant the keeping of two camp

equipments, or maybe a camp upon the highlands to supplement the

village in the lowlands; and it was doubtful policy to leave valuable

tents as a prey for marauding rivals. A larger and a bitter need

arose when the tribe must move, and old folk who lacked the strength

to travel must be left behind. There is nothing so terrible in

savage life as the necessity of leaving old men and women exposed

upon a hilltop after the tribe has moved. The poor old thing is

provided with warm robes, a fire, fuel, water and some food, but as

the days pass the last cinders, carefully raked together, sink to

dust, and the cautious wolves close in for the final rush. Savages

love as we do, think as we do, and their life which has for us some

glamour of romance is full for them of sordid realism. So {104} we

may reckon well that some good matron grudged the loss, at moving

time, of tent poles, the cutting of which had cost her heavy labour,

done as it was without steel tools like ours.

[Sidenote: The travois]

She saw the tent poles left behind when the milch-pony herd moved

off. She told the herders to lash a pair of her poles, one on either

side of each pony's neck with the ends trailing astern. The next

idea was to lash a couple of cross bars across the trailing poles

behind the pony's hocks, and that was enough to keep them at a proper

angle. It was easy then to lash a skin robe in position between the

trailing poles and the two cross bars, making a sort of basket,

something to carry the old mother, who must otherwise be left behind

to perish. Here then was transport which enabled the tribe to march

with its tent poles, old folk and baggage. One can imagine how the

medicine men protested against so shocking a violation of the laws of

nature, which decree that the aged shall be left as a meal for our

hunting companions, the range wolves. But here the priests would

find themselves opposed by the common sense of every man and woman;

so they would doubtless yield with an ill grace, after enacting a law

that this new means of transport was a special privilege for aged

{105} clergymen. The travois came into general use for transport.

[Sidenote: The cart]

The next step was less obvious, an idea which would appeal to men of

inventive minds; and I have noticed that it is only in civilisation

that the inventor is treated as a public enemy. The savage actually

admires a man with new ideas. The travois frame was a heavy drag,

and the draught pony was apt to delay the march. Why not have a

round log as a roller under the trailing ends of the poles? Too

heavy. Cut away the bulk of the roller, fining it down to a mere

axle bar, with a disc at either end to roll along the ground. The

larger the disc the better it rolled, so disc wheels were built, with

a hole in the middle into which the ends of the axle bar were bolted.

As one may see in the many countries where disc wheels are used by

farmers, the first idea of lightening the disc was to cut out four

large holes, leaving the timber shaped like a rough cross with a rim.

But that cross was too weak to carry weight, so its arms had to be

strengthened with four spokes, lashed on with raw-hide; next the four

spokes replaced the arms of the cross, and a rim was built enclosed

in a raw-hide tyre. The raw hide, put on wet, and shrinking as it

dried, made a quite serviceable tyre. So {106} was the wheel

invented, and the first four-spoke pattern gave place to the six and

eight-spoke methods of strengthening the rim. The whole process from

roller to four-spoke wheel would easily occur to one inventor in his

experiments.

[Sidenote: The chariot]

Meanwhile the skin basket in the travois frame was changed to a floor

of raw-hide lacing, on which a man could stand with bent knees

driving. He needed shelter, so a dashboard was made of oiled

bull-hide, quite translucent but proof against spears, arrows and

pony kicks. As a curved surface made weapons glance when they hit,

this dash-board was rounded at the front, and carried along the sides

enclosing the driver's stand.

So far a one-horse vehicle, a sort of sulky, had been invented; and

it may be worth noting that the creaky old Red River cart of

Manitoba, although made with steel tools, contains no trace of metal.

Its gait is a walk. But it was obvious that by using a pole instead

of a pair of shafts, two ponies could be driven, and trotting became

quite possible so far as the grass extended. Still one hesitates to

use the stately name of chariot for a vehicle on three-foot wheels,

drawn by shaggy ponies from the milch herd. Yet it had use in war

because the machine could be driven by a charioteer, leaving {107}

the warrior free to use his weapons. At least it brought the

warrior, after a long march, at a decent speed fresh into action;

and, although he fought afoot, he had the chariot to rally upon, for

cover and a position when hard pressed. The British warrior ran

along the shaft to the attack, retreated behind the dashboard for

defence.

[Sidenote: Red Indians]

THE RIDDEN HORSE. Many a time have I seen the pony herd drift out to

pasture, or trail down of an evening to the water hole; but I do not

remember a herder going afoot. For boys to ride on herd was only

natural, and I have no doubt that ponies were both ridden and packed

from very early times. We may find guidance here from Red Indian

practice.

The Blackfoot nation were a woodland people, and, as first known to

the white men, lived on the head waters of the North Saskatchewan at

the southern edge of the Great Northern Forest. In the earliest

years of the nineteenth century some Kootenays crossed the Rocky

Mountains from the west, and arrived in the Blackfoot hunting grounds

with the first ponies ever seen there. They made a good sale to the

Blackfeet, which started a steady trade. Moreover, the Blackfeet

made no bones about taming and riding these feral {108} ponies, and

holding them on herd. For better hunting and convenience in herding,

they moved about three hundred miles to the southward out on the open

prairies, but well within sight of the Rocky Mountains, which made a

stronghold in the event of disaster, a hunting-ground in seasons of

scarcity. They took to bison hunting for a livelihood.

The daily bathing, winter and summer, in a very brisk climate, the

sweat baths which preceded all religious rites, the freedom from

vermin, the chastity of the women, the valour of the men, the purity

and spirituality of their life, their wonderful psychic development,

and hypnotic medical practice distinguished the Blackfeet even among

the glorious tribes of that region. In grace and endurance as

horsemen they have not been equalled in our time. Young warriors

were trained in the ordeal of fasting and prayer in solitude until

they had contact with the unseen; next in the ordeal by torture; and

last in the ordeal of war. A warrior assembled a party of young men,

and after they had been purified and blessed, they took the war path,

mounted, or more often afoot into the territory of some neighbouring

tribe, such as the Gros Ventre, Absaroka, Sioux or Crees. Their

mission was to enter {109} the hostile camp at night, loose and drive

off the war horses tied at the lodge doors, or stampede the tribal

herd, and drive straight for home. These little excursions,

practised by all the tribes, led to occasional unpleasantness between

them, and engagements were fought when one side could lure the other

into an ambush, cut off a hunting or war party of the enemy, or

surprise a hostile camp. Fighting mounted with lance or bow and

arrows, the Blackfeet developed forty thousand cavalry within

twenty-five years from the day they first saw a pony. Shock action

was unusual, and the tactics were generally those of cavalry in

reconnaissance. A raw-hide string round the pony's lower jaw, and a

robe tied on the back with a surcingle completed the equipment; but

the warrior, whose costume was a breech clout, would usually be

attended by a pack pony to carry his war kit and face paint for use

on occasions of high ceremonial, or a full dress battle.

[Sidenote: Barbarians]

It is a superstition of running and jumping horsemanship that a big

horse and a little man are the right combination for travel. The Red

Indian of the Plains would average five foot ten, and his pony say

thirteen hands, a big man on a very little mount. The United States

cavalry were on the average smaller {110} men on very much larger

horses. They sometimes intercepted Indians on the march, but rarely

overtook them. Closely pursued, Chief Joseph commanding the Nez

Percé tribe, marched with his women and children fourteen hundred

miles, before the United States forces succeeded in intercepting

their flight. In the case of the Blackfoot outlaw Charcoal, up to a

hundred-and-sixty Mounted Police were engaged for four months

catching him. So on the whole the primitive savage, once he had a

pony, was not deficient in mobility. And given the pony, he became

the Mounted Barbarian whose Hordes played havoc with the elder

civilizations. At the very dawn of History three hundred thousand

head of Turanean chariotry romped down on the Persian Empire. They

are said to have been very haughty and oppressive to the poor

Persians.

The fact that range men travelling are usually attended by a herd,

change ponies at every halt, and so ride fresh mounts two or three

times a day, gives them a mobility with even the smallest ponies

which has never been matched by one-horse cavalry. It was not the

foray, but shock action which had to wait, until the crossing of

stocks produced the war horse.

{111}

CHAPTER V.

THE HORSE IN HISTORY.

I. THE DAPPLED HORSE OF EUROPE.

THE BALTIC PEOPLE. The Baltic, which once drained through Lapland to

the Arctic, became, as the icefields melted, a land-locked lake until

a local sinkage of the rocks opened its Danish channels into the

Atlantic. At the same period the North Sea was eating its way up the

old vale of North River.

The melting of the icefields had left these Baltic and North-River

Provinces of Cloudland an ill-drained country of bare rock wastes, of

boulder tracts and clay, cluttered with lakes and swamps. It was

long before its damp and frosty soils yielded a scanty crop, eight

bushels of wheat, for instance, in Plantaganet England as compared

with thirty-six bushels, the present average. The only wealth was

that of fisheries in cold and deadly shallows.

Here, in a rapidly improving climate, was a school of manhood which

educated poor savages who lived on shell-fish, driving them {112} by

straits of famine to exercise a varied skill as fishers, hunters and

farmers with the changing seasons. As these people always bred more

bairns than they could feed, their overcrowding led to bickerings,

and mutual recrimination weeded out all but the best fighters, while

pestilence swept away those who were not not quite hardy. The

blue-eyed, fair-haired ruddy folk of Cloudland grew tenacious of

life, and very hard to kill, thrifty, austere, fiercely

self-governing. Never has the world known men more formidable,

adventurous, abler or more daring than these Vikings of the northern

seas, and pioneers by land who set forth out of Cloudland to find

homes. They had a strong preference for other people's homes.

[Sidenote: The Baltic folk]

To realise the temper of the Baltic, glance for a moment at the old

quest for cod, and the curing stations for stock-fish which formed a

series of stepping-stones to bridge the North Atlantic, and so led to

the discovery of North America. The founding by blonde adventurers

of the Hohenstaufen and Romanov dynasties, and of the British

kingdom, are Baltic roots from whence have grown the German, Russian,

British and American world powers holding dominion over half the

Earth. All that steam is to the mechanism of the planet, or to {113}

our own industrial engineering, the Baltic Force has been in history.

Long before the dawn of historic times the Baltic region was brewing

human storms, which swept outward in all directions, but mainly into

regions toward the sun. It is not blind accident which leads the

modern Prussians to seize the coal and iron fields of Belgium, the

oilfields of Galicia, or the copper mines of Serbia; for, not only

are Baltic storms of overwhelming strength, they are organized by

strategists, led by tacticians and concentrate attack upon the most

useful countries.

[Sidenote: Limitation to conquests]

Yet there is always a limitation to the Baltic conquests. When the

blonde conquerors seized Greece or Italy, Spain or Asia Minor,

districts enclosed by sea and mountain barriers they always held

their own. When on the other hand they conquered a country open to

attack such as Germany or Russia, Hungary or the Balkans the next

wave of the Tartar Hordes has overwhelmed them by sheer weight of

numbers. So the early Balkan conquests on the Mediterranean were cut

off from the homeland by swarms of Asiatics whose dark haired

descendants, known as the Alpine stock still hold large mountain

regions from the Black Sea to the Rhone.

{114}

[Sidenote: The Baltic force]

Wherever the Baltic people hold their conquests in Asia, Europe, or

America, a nation arises of mixed blood from their marriages with

black-haired natives or fellow emigrants. A few centuries after the

settlement, four hundred years or so, the austere republic, or

monarchy of free men with a king as Leader, blossoms into a grand

empire, ablaze with genius, rich, corrupt, decaying.

But, if the Baltic colonists have settled to sunward of the 49th

parallel, the sunlight begins to affect the nerves of the blonde

emigrants, to weaken the children, to give a feverish energy to

business, to kill off the unsheltered outdoor workers, and emasculate

the sheltered aristocracy. A few centuries later the dark-haired

natives of the region have time once more to resume their ancient

habit of sitting in the sun. They made the statues and portraits of

fair gods and saints, blonde kings and heroes. "Once upon a time,"

they say, "we had Olympic games. Our cavalry were irresistible. We

ruled the entire world!" But the race of the blonde conquerors has

perished from among them, gone like last winter's snow save for a few

surviving aristocrats, and some poor melting drifts of peasantry up

in the {115} mountain valleys where there are clouds for shelter.

[Sidenote: Hellenic horsemen]

THE HELLENIC HORSEMEN. While the Baltic region itself was still

sub-arctic, perhaps with no horse-stock as yet much better than

Celtic ponies, the oak woods of the Danube valley were breeding

sturdy Dapples, while the Tartar hordes with each invasion scattered

Duns as far as central France. Even the white horse of the Southern

steppes, rare and held sacred by the Northern people, was known in

Central Europe. So when the fair Achaeans came to Greece they

brought not Celtic ponies but Duns, and a few Dapples picked up upon

their journeys.

In the sagas of the Northmen, as in the legends of Achaean Greece the

blue-eyed, ruddy, tawny hero makes love or war to worship a fair

woman. The vein is epic, but there is a difference of mood; for in

the North its atmosphere is one of gloom and terror shadowed by awful

Fate, but in the south of sunny splendour, gallantry, and joy. The

theme of the winged horse has its weird Valkyrs riding to find the

slain through battlefields at night, and its gay flying Pegasus in

the Sahara, who will not be caught save with a golden bridle made by

magic.

{116}

[Sidenote: Achaean horsemen]

The Ocean God gave Peleus a chariot team "Dapple" and "Dun" by name,

both with great flowing manes, "swift as the winds, the horses that

the harpy, Podarge bare to the West Wind as she was grazing on the

meadow beside the stream of Oceanus." Peleus lent the team to his

son Achilles. Then Achilles' charioteer was killed in battle, and

the horses mourned. "Hot tears," says Homer, "flowed from their eyes

to the ground as they mourned for their charioteer." The fellow used

to oil their manes, poor dears. They wept from the eyes, and not, as

modern horses do, from the nostrils. But then you see they were not

ordinary horses, because their mother was a harpy (_vide_ books on

Unnatural History), and their sire was the West Wind. They were

foaled on the shores of the Western ocean: Dapple of the woods, Dun

of the grass lands. And Pegasus was a Bay from Africa. So one finds

in the oldest myths of the Hellenes record of the three primary

stocks from whom all modern breeds are descended.

To these Hellenes the hearth, the log cabin and the mother were

sacred, the bases of all religion. The hearth became an altar, the

cabin a glorious temple of white marble, the mother a goddess whose

statue was ivory and {117} her robes of massive gold. Outside their

holy faith nothing was taken very seriously, and the people had

special delight in nonsense animals. The centaur or man-horse was a

prime favourite, and they did not worry over his stable management, a

most revolting job. The man mouth would refuse the forage urgently

required by the horse-body, and if they compromised on oats as

porridge, even that would pall. Still centaurs would be gentle, and

less likely to butt, than the buck unicorn of our own mythology. The

Centaur Cheiron indeed was not only gentle but the eminent headmaster

of the earliest public school. Solving the diet question with fish,

game, fruit and wine, he lived to a good old age.

For a people of so lively a mind as the Greeks, progress was rather

slow in the use of horses. Supposing the siege of Troy to have

happened about 1000 B.C. they were solely dependent on chariotry in

war while King Solomon had 12,000 cavalry.

Three centuries later the Greek colonists of African Cyrene, that

"city of fair steeds and goodly chariots," sent home shipments by

direct sea trade of desert Bays for breeding. With the improvement

of the horse stock four-horse chariots began to compete in the

Olympic {118} Games of B.C. 680. By B.C. 640 the ridden horse had

become of consequence enough to share the great honours of the

Olympiad, but still the tactical use of cavalry was delayed. Greece

is a small rough country much broken by sea channels, and no more

suitable than Scotland for the effective use of the mounted arm in

war. So, even as late as the Battle of Marathon, the Persian Horse

found the Hellenic army afoot; not until the fifth century was the

Greek Cavalry of any consequence.

[Sidenote: Hellenic horsemen]

In the Greek statuary of the Great Age we see the Hellenic horses

clearly as though they lived. The chariot horse was a noble

half-bred carriage animal standing at least sixteen hands. The

cavalry remount stood about fourteen hands with a head of

unmistakeable breeding from the Bay, and a general chunky comfortable

build which suggests the Dapple, but certainly not the Dun who had

served with the heroes of the Achaean age. The Welsh pit pony, used

as a yeomanry remount, exactly corresponds with Xenophon's careful

description of the ideal cavalry horse. "A double back," says he,

"that is, when the flesh rises on both sides of the spine, is much

softer to sit upon, and more pleasing to the eye than a single one."

That was before the days of {119} saddles, and horsemen had tender

interest in the double back--the characteristic back of dappled

horses. Of the Hellenic seat we will speak in the chapter on

straight-leg riding.

[Sidenote: Ancient horsemen]

Among all ancient horsemen the great problem was to reserve both

hands for the use of weapons. This involved a life training in

steering by pressure of the knee or calf, but dressing in military

formation was still impossible without control of the horse's mouth.

Many nations used a nose-band, or a twitch round the lower jaw, and a

head-rope for steering; but still in practice the formation would be

that of a mob. So Xenophon seems to have borrowed the bitt from the

chariot harness, using a rough one for breaking, and a smoother kind

for trained horses. His illustrious cavalry owed their prestige and

power to a proper formation, and ingenious tactics.

[Sidenote: Roman horsemen]

THE ROMAN HORSEMEN. The Romans of historic times were descended from

a fair race of the Baltic region, and the blonde aristocracy still

ruled among a dark Mediterranean population. Their culture was

adopted, and mainly Greek. Their original Dun and Dapple horse stock

was crossed from early ages with African blood, and as time went on

they commanded the use of every decent horse strain in {120} the

world. Their officials were _Curules_ as a class from the word

_Currus_ for chariot, whose seats of office were chariot chairs, and

their state allowances included chariot horses. Their gentry were

known as _equites_ or horsemen. They developed a mania for chariot

racing, and their four factions known from the racing colours blue,

green, white and red, outlasted the Western Empire to be a public

nuisance in Constantinople. And yet a people may have money to bet

on racing who in their hearts care nothing more for horses than does

the sporting cockney.

Rich youngsters might swank on horseback to impress the girls, but

one does not read very much about a mounted aristocracy like our own,

with gallant games like polo or manly pleasures such as modern

hunting. At heart the Romans of the Empire were anything but

horse-proud. In their military practice they never aspired to the

glories of the old Greek Cavalry, or bred a horseman tactician to

compare with grand old Xenophon.

Some fifty years before the Christian era, Livy described the heavy

cavalry only as using bridles. This being interpreted means that the

Roman dragoons were able for shock action, while their Hussars

steered by the knees and fought in open disorder.

{121}

On the whole it is difficult to ascribe to the Romans any advance in

the art of horsemanship except in the matter of draught. The heavy

engines which correspond to a modern siege train required not only

draught beasts--oxen possibly, but also the paved causeway. The

Roman road for horse traffic was as big an invention in its effect on

civilization as the steam railway of our modern transport.

THE NORTHERN. Let us turn back to the Northern Ancestors of both

Greeks and Romans. The Heimskringla shows the ancestral home of the

Norse to have been in Russia. By the time they colonized

Scandinavia, they were discarding the chariot, were fighting on

horseback, and had waggons as well as sleighs. A Bronze age waggon

at Copenhagen differs little in structure from those in use to-day.

This waggon confirms the stories of gods heroes and kings riding and

driving powerful horses at least as large the big Duns of modern

Scandinavia. The theory of scrawny little ponies appears to the

sheer nonsense. The evidence points indeed to a more general and

more advanced practice of horse management than than either the Greek

or the Roman.

[Sidenote: Gothic horsemen]

THE GOTHIC HORSEMEN. While the Romans made no special advance in

horsemanship the {122} fair Barbarians of Germany and Gaul evolved a

notable idea. The gentleman rode to war attended by a couple of

mounted serfs who had a remount for him if his charger fell, or even

replaced his loss in the fighting line. In late times the Gothic

gentleman became a knight, and his attendants were esquires in

training until they won their spurs.

See then how the Latin word _equus_ for a horse gives us _equites_ as

the rank of the ancient gentry of Europe, and Esquire the rank of our

modern gentleman. The French word for horse: _cheval_ gives us

Chivalry and Chevalier. The Spanish word _caballo_ gives us Cavalry,

Caballero, and Cavalier. The horse has taught us more than ever we

taught him.

[Sidenote: The pack horse in history]

THE PACK HORSE. While chariotry and cavalry were mainly engaged in

killing civilization, the unobtrusive pack pony did almost as much as

the ship in spreading culture along the channels of commerce. From

the port of London for example a pack trail starting at Tower Hill

ran westward along Newgate, Holborn, Oxford Street, and Bayswater

Road, crossed the Thames at Oxenford, then branched to the gold mines

of Dolgelly and the tin deposits of Cornwall. Along this artery

flowed the Phoenician culture.

{123}

[Sidenote: Pack trails]

A little later the merchants of North-western Europe in search of

salt, landed at the Cinque Ports of Kent. Their pack trails

converged to drop down Blackheath Hill. From thence the one trail

coasted the southern edge of the saltings of Southwark by way of Old

Kent Road and Bedlam, striking the first firm ground in the river

bank at Lamb's Hythe (landing), where the Bishop of Canterbury

afterwards built his town house. From Lambeth at low tide there was

a ford to Horseferry Road on the Isle of Thorns in mid-river. From

the island site of the City of Westminster, there was a broader but

very shallow ford across the north arm of the Thames. One may see

the north bank of the Island at Great George Street, Westminster; but

the site of the pack trail is lost. It took up the ridge between the

Tyburn and Bayswater brooks, avoiding the mudholes of both, along

Park Lane. At Marble Arch it swung into the Bronze trail, to leave

it presently at Tyburn Tree, and strike up Edgeware Road, and so via

Watling Street to the salt wells in Cheshire. It was along the

Bronze trail and the Salt trail that civilization found its way into

England.

Were I a merchant I might see in wool the single origin of my

country's wealth; were I a {124} broker I might see in stocks and

shares the origin of prosperity. Each to his trade; but as an old

packtrain captain I have ridden many a hundred miles, noting the

grass-grown bridle paths along dry ridges, the hesitating down-hill

curves of ancient roads as they approach wet ground, the outer

hedging and the inner hedging as highways narrowed down when they

were paved, and public house signs, such as the Packhorse, dating

from the recent centuries when still the traffic of old England was

done on cargo ponies. It needs but a little scouting to show clearly

the story of some fifteen hundred years of England's progress down to

the time when Cæsar's strength was taxed on joining battle with the

British tribes. Our people, like the Gauls, had roads and chariots,

armour of bronze and gold, old trades, and industries and towns

before the Romans came.

II. THE DUN HORSE OF ASIA.

[Sidenote: The Dun horse of Asia]

As the Earth reels through the Dark, and on her journey spins like a

sleeping top, we only notice the changing of the seasons while she

swings round her great orbit, and the swift passage of flying nights

and days. It is only when one is quite alone in the far wilderness

that one begins to feel the Earth in motion, and after sunset to

watch her shadow climb the {125} eastern sky. To roll one's bed down

beside the waning camp fire, to turn in and smoke the evening pipe,

to lie looking up at the stars, is to know that one is only a speck

of loose dust on a flying sphere, flung eastward at a thousand miles

an hour, yet held down by the pull of the Earth's weight safe from

being whirled away into space. Loose adventurers like me, loose air,

dust, water, and loose tribes of men are all being flung with the

surface, pulled by the centre of the Earth, and drifted about all the

time without our knowing why.

Of course the weaker tribes have been flung eastward so far as there

was land, and stay where they were thrown in China, Indo-China,

Burma, and Bengal. Only the stronger races have thrust against the

motion of the planet. These dark-haired sallow Asiatics, Scythian,

Hun, Tartar and the rest were bred in regions of strong sunlight,

filling their native steppes until they were overcrowded. They were

harmless shepherds and herders who did a little hunting. But for the

Dun pony we might not have heard much about them. When they tamed

the pony the savages became barbarians, the little scattered tribes

were welded into formidable hordes. And then they swarmed like

locusts eating up the world under {126} some ruthless Caan, a

Genghis, a Timour, burning all civilization, trampling out the embers

of human reason. And in their wake came twilight--the Dark Ages.

[Sidenote: Pack horse trails]

History is a jade. She has a glad eye for soldiers and sportsmen

whose business is destruction, but turns a sour face from lousy

pilgrims to the shrines of Faith, poor craftsmen and scholars

burdened with the tools of Progress, drab merchants who carry Culture

in their packs, and all the messengers of civilization. Of these her

annals are curt and negligent. She has plenty of gossip about Kings

more or less human as advertised by scribes more or less venal; but

keeps no chronicle of the pack trails on which the little Dun ponies

carried all that made civilization to the camps of the barbarian and

the savage. She told us nothing about the hundreds of opulent cities

which now lie dead and buried in the Mongolian deserts. One does not

like to speak ill of a lady, but her sense of truth is always

moderate.

Adventure is not officially authorized as one of the Muses, but she

is as truthful as History, and a deal more amusing as a guide.

[Sidenote: Dragon beast]

History says that nations who had no horses used to be terrified at

the first sight of horsemen, {127} and cites the instances of Peru

and Mexico when Empires collapsed in superstitious fear. It seems

quite natural then that the first mention of the horse in China

should call him Dragon-Beast. He was not really formidable, being

only a Dun pony carrying no doubt the good Mongolian pack apparel

which consists of a saddle, and a detachable cargo rack, the oldest

rigging known. His cargo was a lodestone, a rock of magnetic iron

which served the Chinese Emperor as a compass. When the pony wanted

to go west, and the magnet insisted on north his celestial majesty

probably saw a jolly good bucking match.

[Sidenote: The adventurers]

From China to the Atlantic, and from the northern Taiga to the Indian

ocean the old world was threaded all across with pack trails snaking

from water to water over the deserts and pastures, the forests and

the hills. Except in the very dry districts where camels, asses and

mules were employed for transport, the Dun ponies did all the

carrying over-land. From China to Europe was a three years' journey,

not because of the distance but by reason of the robbers who made the

trail unsafe. At each market town the packtrain captains waited,

perhaps for months, until a caravan assembled sufficiently large to

{128} undertake the journey. There were periods when great Tartar

Caans controlled the whole of Asia north of the Himalaya, together

with the grass land known now as European Russia. These monarchs

from Zenghis to Kublai and later had post trails with post horses,

and horses in relay for ambassadors and despatch riders bearing a

golden tablet of office. Old Kublai for example was busy building

Pekin when he sent the Polo brothers as envoys, riding post with the

golden tablet, to visit the Pope in Rome and ask for a batch of

priests to teach him the Christian faith. For years young Marco

Polo, nephew of these merchants, rode post as envoy, visiting every

realm in Asia. Very different were the ramblings on the pack trails

of that rare scamp Fernão Mendes Pinto who in the sixteenth century

worked as a slave on the Great Wall of China, travelled with marching

armies, and as a fugitive tramp found his way by mysterious Lhassa,

to the coasts of further India. Another colossal journey was that in

the eighteenth century of Vitus Bering the Dane with his Russian

trappers, and Stellar the German naturalist trekking on horseback to

the sea of Okhotsk. There they built a ship, and sailed in search of

the mysterious straits of Anian leading through {129} Meta Incognita

to the Atlantic. They found America, but were wrecked at the tail

end of the Aleutians. The surviving trappers built a ship and loaded

her with sea-otter skins. These they sold in Pekin for wealth beyond

dreams of avarice, and so returned riding as rich men home to their

native Russia.

It was in the days of Queen Elizabeth that English envoys and

merchants found their way by water and the trail of the Dun pony from

the White Sea to Persia and on even to Goa on the Indian Coast.

The trail of the Dun horse always led to adventure. Daring traders

went to swap gems for silk at the Court of the great Mogul, or sold

white ladies of the Caucasus to Haroun al Raschid down in Bagdad, or

to Suliman the Magnificent at Stamboul, or offered purple shell-fish

dyes of Tyre to tempt the young Prince Siddatha, or came from the

East with gold and frankincense and myrrh and laid them at the feet

of a Child in Bethlehem, or journeyed from Sweden with swords for the

Prophet of Islam.

III. THE BAY HORSE OF AFRICA.

[Sidenote: The Bay horse of Africa]

Apart from the sacredness of the Old Testament as dealing with the

origin of a religion, we may, without offence to fellow Christians,

{130} read this collection of Hebrew books as the secular history of

an able but unholy people.

[Sidenote: Israel]

The collection of stories known as Genesis consisted mainly of heroic

ballads, cast in the form of verse which can be easily and accurately

remembered. These ballads were recited until at the time of the

Babylonian Captivity in the fourth century B.C. the people learned to

write and set down their annals in the form of manuscript. We may

find the stories lacking in the salt of humour; we may doubt that

singers and scribes were apt to improve on the original words, piling

a deal of exaggeration on the naked facts; but at the very worst

these legends of old Israel are terse, clear, consistent and

gloriously true to human life and character. I had read the story of

Jacob the Sneak, and Joseph the Prig, of gallant Esau, and gentle

Ishmael in camps of live Red Indians, before I realised that Genesis

is true to primitive life as a whole, and that, after forty

centuries, the legend still glows and burns in its immortal truth,

beauty, and power.

The story deals with wealthy Arabian stockmen. They and their

neighbours bred she camels for milking, rode camels and asses, and

used both for pack animals. They seem to {131} have valued oxen for

heavy draught as well as for beef and hides, or they would scarcely

have bothered to winter the cattle in stables. As any stockmen sees

at a glance the sheep and goats were handled by experienced owners.

The stock would not have paid without a market, so, as these Arab

sheiks had plenty of gold, we may presume that they dealt in wool,

beef, hides, and draught animals with the fortified trading towns of

the watered farming districts. No doubt they sold pack beasts also

to the trading caravans.

There were no horses in the world as known to these folk. Abraham

visited Egypt somewhere about the nineteenth century B.C. and found

no horses there.

[Sidenote: The Barb]