At stated times buyers came down, and people from all through the
country brought in their horses, cattle, sheep and hogs. Of course, one
set of buyers did not deal in all these, but there were horse buyers,
cattle buyers and so on.
When the horse buyers were coming, our barn, and even the sheds outside,
used to be full of horses, many of them already sad and homesick.
People may think that dumb animals cannot be homesick, but I tell you
they can. All there is of life, for the average domestic creature, is
the comfort it takes resting at night in a familiar place, and eating
and drinking where it is accustomed. We have few joys, and the future
holds no hope. A familiar voice, even though an abusive one, is dear to
us.
I have seen dogs cringe and fawn on most inhuman wretches because they
acknowledge them as their masters, and so it is, in a less degree, with
almost all of us.
Soon after Master came home from Chicago there were an unusual number of
horses and men in need of accommodation, and about twenty of the latter
slept in the haymow. In the evening they all sat talking overhead, and
it so happened that I could hear their conversation.
"I tell you I kinder hate to sell them there black ponies o' mine," said
one. "I've raised them from colts, and I think a heap of 'em, but I've
got to have money to raise that mortgage, and it's the only way."
"Jest the way I feel about them there bays 'o mine," put in another,
"and I can't help fearin' they will fall into hard hands."
"It is kinder rough," said number three, "to think of fetchin' 'em right
away from their homes where they been fer so long, 'nd turnin' 'em out
amongst perfect strangers to be taken, land only knows where. How would
we feel if it were us or our children?"
"Horses don't sense sech things ez we would," said another.
"Don't ye fool yerself, Billy, they do. I raised a fine colt onct, kept
her till she was nine years old, then sold her to a man twenty miles
away. He came for her, 'nd when he went to take her she seemed to know
she wasn't jist lent or hired, and such mournful whinnying I never heard
before nor since. She was always such a willing creature, but then she
pulled back and all but balked. My, how the children cried 'nd took on!
I felt myself as if I'd committed a crime. Well, do you think when I got
up in the morning that creature was back in her old stall, tired and
muddy, but jest as happy! She had traveled the forty miles and was home
again.
"The next day the man came again. She resisted and plead harder than
ever, but of course he took her. He shut her in safely that time. Six
months after he was driving by our place when she set up sech a
neighing, and, despite his best efforts, she turned in at the gate. I
went out and she acted so tickled. I persuaded him to stop to dinner,
and I assure you she was bountifully cared for in her old stall.
"She again left reluctantly. Three or four months later, she got out of
her pasture and came home. Five years after she came again; and the
queerest thing was, she hadn't forgotten us a bit. It always makes me
blue to think what she had suffered from pure homesickness in those
years."
"That 'minds me," said another man, "of a big gray horse my daughter
used to own. She sold sewing machines, and drove the animal nearly every
day for two or three years; then she sold him.
"It was, maybe, two years after that, that she was crossing a pasture
one day, when she saw a big gray horse making swiftly towards her. It
scared her a bit at first, but when he neighed she knew it was old Jim.
Would you believe he came straight to her, and laid his head on her
shoulder? If that ain't memory and affection for ye, what is it?"
"Yes, 'nd the wonder is that folks ain't better to 'em than they be.
They get mighty rough used some times. I knew a man down East; he
purtended to be a sort of a preacher, too, that used to pound his horses
fer just what was his own fault. One day he overloaded 'em, 'nd because
they couldn't pull up a steep place he got back of 'em 'nd jabbed 'em
with the tines o' a pitchfork till the blood jest trickled down. At
another time he got mad at one of 'em, 'nd, taking her out of the
harness, beat her till he knocked her down, then he hitched the other
horse to her and made him drag her all over a stony, rough pasture. When
the neighbors see him, the trail her body made was marked with blood.
There was a fuss, but he let 'em know he'd do as he pleased with his
own. Her side was all tore to pieces, 'nd, after sufferin' a while, she
died."
"I see a fellow jest last week," put in another, "knock his horse down;
then, because she couldn't get up, he kicked an eye out."
"Mercy on us!" cried the first speaker, "if I thought them 'ere black
ponies of mine would ever fall into such hands, I'd take 'em home 'nd
let the blamed mortgage foreclose."
"There's no tellin'," answered another.
"Well, I'm sellin'," said still another, "because I'm afraid my horse is
getting the poll evil, 'nd I've had one trial of that."
"It ain't hard to cure; take it in time," said another. "I've cured
several."
"Well, I'd like to see it done," said the other. "I tried everything far
and near, 'nd she jest got worse. Some of the things jest made her
crazy. Onct she started and walked a dozen miles before she knew what
she was doin', I guess, poor thing!"
"Well, you see, poll evil generally comes from a blow on the head, or
from the wearin' of a heavy bridle, and if taken in time, and the cause
removed, the treatment ain't much, just rubbin' in arnica. But if matter
forms, then something else has to be done. I, fer one, don't believe in
a raw hand choppin' into horseflesh no more'n human flesh. Get somebody
that's used to the business to cut open the hard swellin' 'nd put in
lint saterated in glycerine, calendula 'nd water. Put iled silk over
this 'nd fix a linen hood over, leavin' places fer the ears. Tie it
under the throat, and wet it three or four times a day with the same
stuff ye put in the opening. If the lump gets soft, the doctor kin open
it 'nd let the stuff out, cleanin' it all out careful. Sometimes they
say it ain't safe to open 'em, 'nd they inject weak sulphate of
zinc--ounce a day. When the matter gets thick 'nd white it's better to
inject the glycerine, calendula and water again. The animal needs care
'nd tonin' up."
"There is getting to be less poll evil than there used to be," some one
remarked.
"Yes, since new barns with high doors have taken the place of the old,
low log stables; and we use lighter bridles."
It was with a heavy heart that I saw the poor horses hurried off in the
morning, but it made me feel better toward men that some of the owners
looked sad and gave a kindly parting pat.
Master had to make an early trip, and it so happened that we were
passing the depot when the poor creatures were being driven into the
car. Strange surroundings, strange voices, strange everything! I thought
of the story the mustangs told, and wondered if these horses would fare
better or worse.
Presently we overtook a pedestrian, and Master invited him to ride. I
soon discovered that the latter's mind was full of the same subject that
filled mine.
"I tell you, Martin, I wish there were mercy shown the dumb beasts. Of
course, we have to buy and sell and all that, but things are at a
fearful pass, especially on railroads and in large cities. I never
realized it as I did while I was in Chicago a few weeks ago, and the
scenes I saw there have haunted me ever since.
"Carload after carload of wretched-looking cattle were brought to the
stock yards, having come thousands of miles, some of them without one
drop of water. It turned me faint, used as I am to suffering, to see the
piteous pleading in their sunken, frightened eyes. Great heavens, it was
a sight to remember!
"And then the way they unloaded them! There were thousands of them, and
people were in a hurry. The poor beasts, weak and terrified as they
were, did their best to obey the rough, unintelligible orders, but
assistance (?) was inhumanly rendered by the men using heavy poles with
great iron spikes in the end. Prod, prod, prod! time and again the cruel
iron pierced the hide and buried itself in their quivering flesh. The
air was full of the cries and moans of fright and pain. Many were hauled
out dead or dying. Something of what they endured may be conceived when
one witnesses their frantic greed for water. It is terrible to think of
the torturing thirst that had lasted for days.
"I tell you, man, there's a day of reckoning coming when men will cry
unto the mountains and hills to fall on them and hide them."
"But why do they abuse them so? Water is plentiful," Martin asked.
"Well, I suppose it saves time and trouble, but the main reason is
greed. They starve them for water, then give them a chance to drink all
they want just before they are weighed, thus increasing their weight
dishonestly. Then, when Saturday night comes, the water is shut off, and
the poor animals in the stockyards get no more until Monday; and of all
dreary, hot, dusty places on earth those stockyards take the lead.
"But the worst of all is the cruelties of the slaughter houses. Hundreds
of cattle crowded around awaiting their turn to be butchered, and gazing
with staring eyes at their mates' bloody fate. You know how the smell of
blood terrifies such creatures. Their whole systems are doubtless
poisoned with the agony. Such meat cannot be healthy.
"Now there could be humane means devised for all these proceedings if
only men cared."
"If only they cared," echoed Martin, much impressed by Master's words.