[CHAPTER X.]
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?"