“The off horse, the ugly one, refused to turn into the snow, and I stepped forward of him, taking him by the head, standing in the snow half my depth. Instead of accepting my invitation to follow my lead, he reared and came down upon me, throwing me on my back, with my head just out from under his chest, both of us lying at full length in the snow.
“Now my pet showed his love and that he saw where the trouble lay. Taking his mate by the side of the lip in his teeth, he lifted him up upon his fore feet, then supposing his duty done, let go his hold, when at once the rascal came down again, this time with one knee upon my chest, nearly crushing it in, and making breathing almost impossible.
“The old gentleman and lady screamed, and I feared fright of my horses would be an added danger, but instead, no wise man's head was ever clearer as to duty in time of danger, than was that of my equine friend. Taking his mate again by the side of his lip and with a strong grip of his teeth, he lifted and held him sitting on his haunches as a dog would have done, and with one fore foot bowed out on either side of me. Getting hold of the harness I dragged myself from under my captor, when Billy showed in no doubtful manner that he meant all he had done. His whinney was like a cry of joy. He called to me, danced, rubbed his head against me, and showed plainly as language could have done that instinct and love had joined in saving my life. Was it reason or instinct or inspiration.
“It seemed like a dog's thoughtful, unselfish love, but in the story of horses, I have never known such devotion. Now you know why I love horses, and why cruelty to one of them is, to me, like a cruel injury to a true friend.”
A lady, with whom the author of this volume is well acquainted, writes as follows on this subject:
“I think that blinders ought to be abolished by law, but if we cannot get rid of them that way, every friend of the horse should exert all possible influence to induce people to abandon their use. When I first obtained my horse 'Tatters' he had never been driven with an open bridle, and had never been used under a saddle, but he had the reputation of being exceedingly gentle and afraid of nothing except the steam railways and the elevated cars. The statement was correct, as he would stand up and strike toward them with his front feet, snorting and trembling in great terror. I needed a horse both for riding and driving, so I ventured to try him under the saddle before purchasing.
“I am not a very fearless person, as you know, so I went through all the prescribed rules laid down for horse-breakers, such as giving him the saddle to smell and examine before placing it on his back, putting the skirt of my riding habit under his nose to rub with his upper lip and feel of in his own way, which he did very thoroughly, taking about seven minutes before he seemed entirely satisfied. After mounting and riding round the ring once, I feared Mr. 'Tatters' was balky, for if I wanted him to pass between other riders he would stop suddenly and refuse to move on until a space of six or eight feet was made for his horseship to pass, then he would trot along quietly until the same thing occurred, and so on, until I bethought me that perhaps he was under the impression that the carriage was behind him. I then wheeled him around two or three times in as small a space as possible, at which he showed considerable fear and he kept a sharp look out for splinters.
“After about two weeks of this performance daily a fine afternoon tempted me to a ride in the park. Then the question of 'blinders' came up, and each of the 'horsey' people at the stable contributed his quantum of caution to the effect that Tatters would shy at everything and run away for nothing the first time he went out and saw much, but I argued there was no help for it; one could not put blinders on a saddle horse, and there was a heap of courage in remembering that Tatters had not worn blinders when he went to the blacksmith's to be shod.
“I shall never forget the delightful afternoon we—Tatters and I—had. Tatters enjoyed the prospect of the fun—turning his head from side to side, and every little while heaving a great sigh of satisfaction which every lover and owner of a horse recognizes and understands.
“Our usual run now is around the reservoir and park, then up to Macomb's Dam bridge. Glad of company when it is congenial, good company for each other when alone. One day, being with a friend who wished to ride over to the Riverside Drive, I assented, forgetting for the moment that we must pass under the elevated railway in order to get there from Seventh Avenue and One Hundred and Twenty-fourth Street. Fearing ridicule, I would not turn back after assenting to the proposition; so, taking an extra firm grip of the saddle and with a good deal of thumping in the region of my watch-pocket as we approached the dredded object, and assuring Tatters in the sweetest tones possible that 'Nothing will harm the boy! Missis wouldn't let anything hurt her Tatters,' etc. etc.—imagine my surprise when Tatters, after looking up at the passing train and then turning his head first to the left and then to the right, seeing where the train and the noise came from and where it went, quietly walked along under it perfectly satisfied.