At stations where the ponies are but little worked, good animals can sometimes be obtained for a small sum of money; but at stations near large settlements—where trade with other villages is carried on entirely by pack-ponies—they are mostly sorry beasts, with their backs one mass of sores, produced by the friction of the rough pack-saddles. Moreover, the cruel habit of letting colts follow mares for long distances—sometimes forty or fifty miles—is as painful a sight to witness as it is injurious to the breed. The Yezo ponies are characterised by their long hair and mane. They are short, sturdy, punchy brutes, not more than ten or twelve hands high, with a rather large and massive head, and thick, crooked legs. They are by no means fine-looking animals, nor are they well groomed—in fact, they are not groomed at all—but they serve capitally for the rough tracks and precipitous wastes of Hokkaido. They have none of the good qualities we require in our horses, but they possess others which fit them for the country they are in. Their enormous power of endurance, and the wonderful way in which they can go over the steepest tracks—almost unclimbable on foot; their sure step when going along precipices; and the marvellous manner in which they pick their way over rocky coasts, which the waves would seem to make impassable, and where none of our good horses could go without breaking their legs, are all endowments which I feel bound to quote in honour of the Yezo ponies. They are not shod, and they can hardly be called trained. Indeed, if a traveller be a good rider, it is advisable to obtain a perfectly unbroken animal, as from my own personal experience I can say that, though the riding was a little more exciting, I could invariably make better time with a totally unbroken beast, than with one of the worn-out, sore-backed "quiet ponies," which needed any amount of thrashing to make him go.
A curious method is adopted for directing the animal. It is as simple as it is ingenious. The necessary "bit" by which we control our horses is dispensed with, and it is replaced by two wooden wands about twelve inches long and two inches wide, tied together at one end, allowing a distance of three inches between them. In the middle of these wands a rope is passed which goes over the pony's head behind its ears; while the wands themselves, thus supported by it, rest one on each side of the pony's nose. Another rope, five or six feet in
AINU BITS. length, and acting as a rein, is fastened at the lower end of one of the wands, and passes through a hole in the other, thus allowing this simple contrivance, based on the lever principle, to be worked exactly in the same way as a nut-cracker, the pony's nose being the nut. The disadvantage of the system is, that having only one rein, this has to be passed over the pony's head each time one wishes to turn to the right or to the left, as by pulling the rope hard, and thus squeezing the animal's nose, its head is turned in the direction in which it is pulled, and it is soon taught that this is the way it must go. Furthermore, should the pony bolt, it can be stopped by pulling its head close to its haunches, thereby making it impossible to continue its race. In the latter case it often happens, especially with an untrained pony, that it will spin round, trying to stretch its twisted neck by pushing its head away from the side of its body, and the result is generally a bad fall of horse and rider.
Another thing of which one ought to be careful is to keep one's legs out of the reach of the brute's teeth; for it is not infrequent that instead of the man punishing the animal, the animal revenges itself on the man; and the incautious traveller realises Sydney Smith's position, and finds that to a Yezo pony, as well as to an English cart-horse, "all flesh is grass."
From Riruran, for about fifteen miles, the way is merely a mountain track; and I dare say that in fine weather the scenery along it is picturesque. Unfortunately, when I went through, the fog had become more and more intense, and I saw very little of the landscape. At places the track led down to the sea, and then mounted up again over cliffs and high lands. As the mist, which came in gusts and waves, deepened or lightened in intensity, the rugged precipitous rocks, formed mostly of conglomerate, sandstone, and breccia, took all sorts of fantastic forms. Along the coast were many Ainu huts inhabited by half-castes and by Japanese. The Ainu were once very numerous in this district, but few of them are to be found now. The few remaining ones have yielded to the more civilised Japanese, and have become their servants. They are used as menials in most of the fishing stations, always acting under the directions of Japanese masters. Very frequently they are employed as tenders of horses, and in some places as guides for traders and travellers from one station to another.
Not far from Riruran the mouths of two lagoons have to be crossed, the larger of which is called Saruffo-Ko, or "Lake in a grassy plain." Cranes, swans, and ducks are numerous in these lagoons.
The track continues mostly over cliffs and mountains till Birvase, a small village of seaweed gatherers, is reached, and the next two and a half miles are along a sandy beach as far as Hammanaka. A short bridge joins this place to the island of Kiritap, which is separated from the mainland by a channel only a few feet wide. Towards the evening the fog lifted, and I caught a glimpse of the village.
The ponies of the Kiritap village had just been let loose, and were running over the small wooden bridge with great clamour. The houses, which number about a hundred and twenty, are all poor and dirty. There is a main street, and most of the houses are on each side of it. The people are fishermen, seaweed gatherers, and small traders; for Hammanaka Bay, being a good anchorage for junks and small craft under the lee of Kiritap Island, is a place of some importance for its export trade of seaweeds, fish-oil, and herring guano; these products being sent down to Hakodate.
If a few Ainu have adopted the Japanese language, clothes, and customs, there are also many Japanese who have taken up the Ainu language and ways. I noticed this more particularly in this district, where the Ainu have almost entirely disappeared. The older Japanese and many of the younger folks have Ainu features; and not only have they adopted a great number of Ainu words, but when talking Japanese they speak it with the peculiar intonation and accent pertaining to the Ainu. This is not surprising, nor yet peculiar to the Japanese or the Chinese; for we find that almost all English residents in Chinese ports adopt many of the words of our pig-tailed brothers, and have thus formed a kind of local English, besides the "pidgeon-English"—a corruption of "business English"—which almost constitutes a language of its own.