What recketh he his rider’s angry stir,
His flattering “Holla,” or his “Stand, I say”?
What cares he now for curb or pricking spur,
For rich caparisons or trapping gay?
He sees his love, and nothing else he sees,
Nor nothing else with his proud sight agrees.
Look! When a painter would surpass the life
In limning out a well-proportioned steed,
His art with nature’s workmanship at strife,
As if the dead the living should exceed,
So did this horse excel a common one,
In shape, in color, courage, pace, and bone.
Round-hoof’d, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,
Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostrils wide,
High crest, short ears, straight legs, and passing strong,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide.
Look! What a horse should have he did not lack,
Save a proud rider on so proud a back.
BUFFALO BILL’S EQUINE HEROES.
Mr. Cody is a great lover of man’s best friend among the animal kingdom—the horse. The peculiar career he has followed has made his equine friend such a sterling necessity as a companion, an assistant, a confidant, that he admits, as every frontiersman and scout does, a great deal depends, even life itself in innumerable emergencies, on the general sagacity of this noble brute. For the purposes of the trail, the hunt, the battle, the pursuit, or the stampede it was essentially necessary to select, for chargers with which to gain success, animals excelling in the qualities of strength, speed, docility, courage, stamina, keen scent, delicacy of ear, quick of sight, sure-footed, shrewd in perception, nobleness of character, and general intelligence. History records, and a grateful memory still holds dear, numberless famous quadruped allies that Buffalo Bill has during his long career possessed, and many are the stories told on the frontier and in the army of Old Buckskin Joe, Brigham, Tall Bull, Powder-Face, Stranger, and Old Charlie.
COMRADES.
Old Buckskin Joe was one of his early favorites, who by long service in army-scouting became quite an adept, and seemed to have a perfect knowledge of the duties required of him. For this reason, when ordered to find and report the location of the savages in their strongholds, at times hundreds of miles away over a lonely country, infested by scouting parties of hostiles liable at any instant to pounce upon one, Old Buckskin was always selected by Cody to accompany him on the trail when the work was dangerous. Mounted on another horse, he would let Buckskin follow untrammeled, even by a halter, so as to reserve him fresh in case of discovery and the terrible necessity of “a ride for life.” Quick to scent danger, he instinctively gave evidence of his fears, and would almost assist his saddling or quickly insert his head in the bridle, and once on his back Joe was always able to bid defiance to the swiftest horses the Indians possessed, and the longer the chase the farther they were left in his rear. On one occasion his master descried a band of 100 warriors, who gave them chase from the headwaters of the Republican River to Fort McPherson, a distance of 195 miles. It was at a season when the ponies were in good condition, and the savage band, though thirsting for the scalp of their well-known foe, Pa-he-has-ka (the long-haired scout), dropped behind until on the last fifty miles but fifteen of the fleetest were in pursuit, Buckskin leaving them out of sight twenty miles from the fort.
This ride, famed in army annals, caused Old Buckskin to go blind, but the gratitude of his master was such that Joe was kept and carefully attended to until his death, which occurred a few years ago at Cody’s home, North Platte. Buckskin was accorded a decent funeral, and a tombstone erected over his remains inscribed “Old Buckskin Joe, the horse that on several occasions saved the life of Buffalo Bill by carrying him safely out of the range of Indian bullets. Died of old age, 1882.”
Brigham was another celebrity of his race, and it was on his back Mr. Cody clinched his undisputed title of “King Buffalo-killer,” and added permanency to the name of Buffalo Bill by killing sixty-nine buffalo in one run; and such was this steed’s knowledge of hunting that game that he discarded saddle and bridle while following the herd, killing the last half while riding this renowned pet of the chase bareback.