Camp and Trail

by Stewart Edward White

In mid-day the shade of the pines is inviting

A Handsome Horse Not Necessary

Of course it is nice to ride a good-looking horse; but in the mountains most emphatically "handsome is what handsome does." The horses I now own are fine animals and fine mountain ponies; but some of the best I have ever ridden, a horseman would not look at twice. On a time, being under the absolute necessity of getting a pack quickly, I purchased a bay that I promptly named Methuselah. He was some sixteen years old, badly stove forward by hard riding, and not much of a horse anyway. For three months he carried a pack. Then one day I threw a saddle on him to go a short distance on some little errand. Methuselah, overjoyed, did his best. The old horse was one of the best mountain saddlers in the outfit. He climbed surely and well; he used his head in negotiating bad places; would stay where he was put. The fact that he was not sound was utterly unimportant, for not once in a week was he required to go faster than a walk.

On the other hand I once owned a Bill-horse, mountain-bred and raised. He was a beautiful beast, proud, high-stepping—one you would be glad to be seen on. He would have been worth considerable money, and would have afforded much solid satisfaction if I had wanted him for cow work, or pleasure riding in the lower country. But it was absolutely impossible to catch him, even hobbled, without a corral. One day I saw him leap from a stand and with hobbles over a fence and feed trough. So I traded him for another, not near so much of a horse, as a horse, but worth two dozen Bill-horses.

Gun Shyness

What One "Sam Fat" Did

One other thing you must notice, and that is whether or not the beast is gun shy. A great many stampede wildly at the report of firearms. I once owned a pack horse named Sam Fat, on which for some time I congratulated myself. He was a heavy animal, and could carry a tremendous load; and yet he was sure-footed and handled himself well on rough country. He was gentle and friendly. He took excellent care of his pack, and he followed perfectly. No one needed to ride behind him to keep Sam Fat coming. I used to turn him loose when I started, and pay no more attention to him until I stopped. No matter how rich the feed through which we passed, Sam Fat was always on hand when the halt was called. And, very important point, he was a good rustler—he kept fat and sleek on poor food where other horses gaunted. Altogether Sam Fat was a find. Then one day one of the party shot off a harmless little twenty-two caliber popgun. Sam Fat went crazy. He squatted flat, uttered a terrified squeal, and departed through the woods, banging his pack against trees and hanging limbs. We chased him a mile, and finally brought him back, but all the rest of the day he was panicky. I tried to get him accustomed to shooting by tying him near our target practice, but it was no use. Finally, though reluctantly, I sold him.

So when the natives bring in their horses for your selection blind your eyes to the question of looks and points until you have divided the offering into two parts—those that are sure-footed, courageous, gentle, tractable, easy to catch, good grub rustlers, and if pack horses, those that will follow and will take care of their packs, and those that lack one or more of these qualifications. Discard the second group. Then if the first group contains nothing but blemished or homely horses, make the best of it, perfectly sure that the others might as well not exist.

Qualifications

In general, a horse just from pasture should have a big belly. A small-bellied horse will prove to be a poor feeder, and will probably weaken down on a long hike. The best horse stands from fourteen hands to fourteen two, and is chunkily built. There are exceptions, both ways, to this rule. A pack horse is better with low withers on account of the possibility of sore backs. Avoid a horse whose ears hang sidewise from his head; he is apt to be stubborn. As for the rest, horse sense is the same everywhere.