CHAPTER VI.. Horsemanship.

HORSEMANSHIP.

I. THE STRAIGHT LEG.

THE SEAT. Among the Red Indians I have known, the mounted people were the Blackfeet, Stonies, Crees, Yakimas, Navajos, Moquis, and a few tribes in Mexico. So far as I can learn no Indian was ever taught to ride, or heard of riding as an accomplishment to be learned. The commonest equipment was a blanket and surcingle; but all the horse apparel used by white men was eagerly played for in the gambling games. The riding seemed to be natural, with a perfection of grace one rarely sees among white men.

The man rode down to his crotch, yet the forward slant of the thighs gave rest to the pelvis bones upon the horse's back, while the lower leg hung vertical and loose.

At halt or walk the whole seat was loose, but as the pace increased at trot or canter the {143} thighs locked with a grip of tremendous power, rigid save for the play of the skin. From the waist upward the poise was quite erect, and supple, with the shoulders slightly eased.

At a gallop the lower legs wrapped round the horse's barrel, and the movement of the man as seen behind an edge of skyline was like the flight of a bird.

For pony racing boys rode instead of men. Since the boys' legs were not long enough to wrap round the horse, the thighs were lifted, nearly horizontal, the lower legs bent sharply back, and a surcingle was strapped across the knees. Still the perch was on the animal's back, and not on the withers, as in the negro gait so much admired under the name of the American racing seat.

Was the Red Indian seat straight leg or bent leg? With stirrups it was straight leg. For boy jockeys only the racing gait was bent leg.

A reference to the sculptures of Pheideas, and Praxiteles (fifth century B.C.) shows that the Greeks rode at slow gaits with the same leg as the Red Indian, but like him bent the knees very sharply at racing speed.

At first sight these Greek sculptures from the Parthenon rather remind one of the Red Indian seat. A little closer study shows that {144} the models chosen by the sculptor were not horsemen, but carefully selected athletes. They were no more horsemen for example, than the glorious athlete represented at high tension by Watts in his equestrian statue of Physical Energy. The back is too much curved for that of the Red Indian, who earned a living on horseback from his childhood, and kept a professional watch on the horizon rather than an amateur's nervous observation of the pony's ears. So one turns away from the misleading splendours of Greek sculpture, to the professional guidance of General Xenophon, a horseman who knew his business. "Whether he uses a cloth or rides on the bare back we would not have him sit as one who drives a chariot" (bent knees), "but as if he were standing erect with his legs somewhat astride, for thus his thighs will cling closer to his horse, and he will be able to wield his lance and shield with more force."

This seems to show that for freedom in the use of weapons the Greek cavalry adopted straight leg riding before they had saddle or stirrups. So far as I can learn the Hellenic seat passed on into Roman practice, but through the Dark Ages which followed the fall of Rome there seems to be no guidance as to {145} the conduct of horsemen. Horses were not saddled in England until 631 A.D., and the first pictures we have which reveal the horsemanship of the Middle Ages are the Bayeux tapestries of the Norman Conquerors. Now for the first time horses were used by farmers to till the land. Chain mail had replaced the scale armour of the Barbarians. A perfectly straight leg locked the horseman aft against the cantle, forward against the stirrup of a weight-distributing saddle.

THE WAR SADDLE. During the five centuries in which body armour slowly increased in weight, and horse armour was added to the burden, the dappled woodland horse of Northern Europe was bred from strength to strength to take the growing load. So we came by our Destriérs, now known as the cart horse breeds, such as the Percheron, Cleveland Bay, and Suffolk Punch, and the heavy draught such as the Shire and Clydesdale.

Plate armour is still worn a good deal on the stage, in pageants and in military tournaments. Men used to this armour tell me that a horseman who rides less than his weight while his limbs are free, rides more than his weight when he is cramped in movement.

Suppose then that a 190 pound man in 90 {146} pounds of armour makes a dead weight of 280 pounds. Add harness and horse armour, and the total weight is about 400 pounds. At a canter this load would certainly need a draught horse weighing not less than 1,500 pounds. Using the English saddlery one would prefer the heaviest draught animal.

Now take a load of 350 pounds in mining machinery and add 50 pounds for an apparejo pack equipment. This total dead weight of 400 pounds would make a light cargo for a 1,000 pound mule or horse, who would carry it without distress a day's march up a range of mountains.

But note well that the bearing surface of the equipment on the horse's back is about two square feet with the English saddle, and nearly eight square feet for the usual apparel of horses in heavy packing. As anybody would rather carry two buckets of water than one, because the load is halved by being properly distributed, so will the horse prefer a heavy load distributed over the whole rigid area of the ribs to a light load concentrated on a few square inches. The distribution of the load is of greater importance than its weight.

In the days of light chain mail a special saddle was evolved with a deep seat wherein {147} the rider was locked against the cantle by the straight thrust of his legs against box stirrups. As chain mail gave way to the heavier plate armour, the saddle bars were more and more widely padded until they covered every available inch of the rigid ribs.

Nobody seems to have noticed that with every kind of armour a chamois or buckskin lining afforded a rough-grain leather strapping for the unarmoured seat and thighs, and this gave a greasy grip against the oiled saddle.

As the use of gunpowder advanced, piece by piece the armour was put aside, until now nothing remains but the cuirass; but the leather lining retained its usefulness, and leather breeches are still in very general use among modern horsemen because they give an excellent grip on the saddle.

Armour had reached and passed its greatest weight when the Spaniards conquered the new world, and the Conquistadores took to Peru and Mexico their weight-distributing saddle, buckskin grip, high cantle and box stirrups. The strays from their horse and cattle stock bred feral herds which spread into North America. So stock riders were engaged to handle the Spanish cattle on Andalusian ponies. They kept the old war saddle quite {148} unchanged, with its weight distribution, high cantle, box stirrups and oiled leather seat.

Next came the American of the North to learn from Texans their art of handling stock, and almost throughout the Western States the Vaquero was replaced by the Cowboy. Both were abstemious and hard-working men. In their valour, gentleness, skill and power as rough-riders they were equals, and hardly surpassed. The methods of both in horse-breaking were altogether vile, and the horsemastership almost as bad. But there the equality ends; for the cowboy had endurance and vitality beyond all comparison in the modern world, was master where the Vaquero of Mexico is servant, had the brains and character, the chivalry and high initiative of a ruling race. Without the Red Indian grace in horsemanship, the American cow-puncher takes rank with the knight-at-arms and the cavalier among the greater horsemen of all ages. It is well to give him the credit for experienced and practical good sense in matters of horsemanship and equipment.

THE RANCHE HAND AS HORSEMASTER. While a pony sold at ten dollars he was not considered worth educating. A professional broncho buster took him in hand for five {149} dollars, and smashed him. The pony was a wild animal, timid but ferocious. The broncho buster was not at all timid, but he was ferocious to an extent which horrified the animal, and intelligent to a degree which reduced the victim to abject obedience. So the horse surrendered and came into the care of a cowpuncher. They started out together on the range, and if they felt fresh of a morning there would be a bucking match which both of them rather enjoyed. There was no ill feeling, for after all a horse is as good a sportsman as any man. Then came the work of handling cattle, and the horse enjoyed that sport which taxed all he had of courage and skill and endurance. It made a partnership between two persons who loved sport, and dealt with cattle as mere lower animals. There was hearty good fellowship between horse and man, which sometimes ripened into a love stronger than death.

Of horsemastership as understood in civilized life there never was a symptom. When the puncher, after long months of abstinent living, happened to ride into a town, he stepped off his horse, threw the rein to the ground and left the animal standing in the street while he got drunk. Afterwards the pony would carry {150} him homeward unless he became dead drunk and fell off. The pony went to camp anyway, to get himself unsaddled and join the herd. Sometimes the puncher didn't even get drunk, being broke, or in love, but that made no difference to his meticulous neglect of the whole practice of horsemastership as explained in books.

And the ponies prospered, usually fat as butter because they lived a perfectly natural life.

THE RANCHE HAND AS HORSEMAN. Nobody taught the budding cowboy any art of riding. It was merely a habit. When the saddle taught him to sit well down and ride straight leg he ceased to tumble off. When he left off interfering with the rein the horse steered clear of holes, and there were neither stumbles nor falls.

From camp gossip he knew that a horse cannot buck if one keeps his head up. If the novice did amiss the foreman or some elder cowhand advised him. The pride of a great calling made him a stickler for exquisite form in riding, and the emulation to beat rival outfits imposed on each a high standard of efficiency. The work was usually done at a canter to allow of the lightning swiftness in {151} turning to head off cattle, wherein the punching of cows closely resembles polo. Travel on the other hand was alternate trotting and walking. The seat at the canter was almost Red Indian in its grace. The seat at the trot thrust the buttocks against the cantle, and raked the body at a slant very stiffly forward, the back forming a straight line, and the head thrown up so that the eyes were level to the horizon. This trotting seat was ungainly, but, like the more graceful English trotting, was supposed to ease the horse. Undoubtedly the horsemanship was fine, especially in the delicate art of roping, and never more so than in the occasional use of a pony as pack animal on journeys. The single-hand diamond hitch in loading a pack horse is a very fair test of a man's all-round skill and deftness with the hands. Other signs of fine horsemanship might be noted in the suppling of leather work, the pride in a clean gun, and a youthful delight in silver ornament of belt and spur and bridle.

In the study of American range horsemanship it is well to remember that the experts who contributed to the practice were not limited to ranche hands, but included scouts, the military, forest, fire, game and other types of rangers, trappers and wolfers, express riders, prospectors, {152} traders, the Rocky Mountain outlaws, the sheriffs and marshals and Mounted Police. The equipment is mainly of Spanish origin, and named with Spanish words.

II. EQUIPMENT OF HORSEMEN.

The healthfulness of a horseman's life has developed to the fullest extent his natural passions both in love and war, and it is a notable fact that the males of nearly all species who love and defend their mates go very bravely dressed. So in all ages both military and civilian horsemen have worn an honest bravery and gallantry of equipment suited for loving and fighting, for quests of bold adventure and of conquest. Much that in a clerk or craftsman would be grotesque is seemly for mounted men.

THE SWEAT PAD. In Queensland, Argentino and pack train practice, it is usual to lay on the horse's back a soft sugar sack, a crash towel or other fabric not likely to slip or crinkle. This is called the sweat pad. Its first purpose is to receive the special marks made by any turning or chafing of the horse's hair which may be the beginnings of a gall. Its second purpose is to take the sweat, hair, scurf, grease and dirt which would not be noticed on a dark blanket, but is easily seen and rubbed or washed out of a {153} sweat pad. The third purpose is to keep the blanket perfectly clean for the man's use at night. With saddle and pack horses the horseman gets two blankets, a canvas pack cover and his rain coat, enough material for a luxurious bed.

THE BLANKET. Because the numnah makes poor bedding one prefers a blanket. If one cuts a hole in a numnah to ease an incipient blister on the horse, the edges of the felt are apt to cause more blisters. Another advantage of a blanket is that it can be folded in a great many ways to make the saddle fit more perfectly, or to relieve some part of the back which shows signs of galling. The usual size of blanket folds once lengthways, then once, or a fold of three crossways. Take care to have a fold, and not edges of blanket to the front, lest it ruck under the saddle.

THE AMERICAN STOCK SADDLE. As the Mexican wooden tree was never strong enough, the American has rivetted to the fore ends of the bars a fork of wrought steel which is surmounted by the horn which takes the strain in roping. In the twentieth century this arch has widened to make a larger opening clear of the withers, and it gives heavy shoulders to the saddle. To save weight the old square skirts {154} have been trimmed and rounded. The seat still slopes sharply from front to rear, throwing the rider's weight against the cantle. The horse-hair cincha (girth) is replaced by one of lamp wick, which causes less irritation. The latego or strap to take the purchase in cinching up the saddle has been replaced by the English strap and buckle to save time. There is a loss, however, in efficiency, because the old double-rig saddle with two cinchas (the second for mountain use and for bucking horses) had two pair of rings, and one was able to sling a single cincha forward or aft in case the skin showed chafing. A centre-fire rig is never so adaptable for various kinds of use.

STIRRUP. The word means mounting rope, and the ideas of adjusting the rider's balance, and of locking him against the cantle are only after-thoughts. In great cold a steel stirrup would cause dangerous freezing of the feet, and in great heat the metal is apt to burn them. Hence, in Mexican practice, the use of a hardwood stirrup with a leather floor, and to guard against acacia thorns this is enclosed in a leather box called the tapadero. American practice has dispensed with the leather, and lately reduced the bent-wood stirrup to a mere ring, so large in some cases that the foot {155} will go through, and thus expose the rider to a risk of being dragged to death. The men of to-day are less practical than those of the old real frontier.

THE AUSTRALIAN STOCK SADDLE. The Australian stockman has done all that was possible to enlarge the bearing surface of the English saddle. He has also added pads, on the same principle as those of a lady's saddle, to retain the knees. The first flight of horsemen have their saddles made with the leather inside out, because the inner surface gives a better grip. By removing the stuffing down the middle of the panel they make a groove to take the leg. Thus by ingenious makeshift they have evolved a practical equipment for their sound, straight-leg horsemanship. As horsemen their best stock-riders are certainly not surpassed by any men of our race, and when one considers that their walers are larger and more powerful than the general stock of North America, Australian roughriding must be rated even above the American. I notice, however, that when they use American equipment they seem to like it better than their own.

THE RECADO. A careful analysis of the Argentino equipment shows that it is the home-made {156} effort of a first-rate horseman to produce a practical, weight-distributing saddle. The best and most improved forms, however, lack the strength of the Mexican rigging, which the Mexicans themselves reject if they can afford the North American.

THE MCCLELLAN SADDLE. So far as I remember this model it made no pretence of weight-distribution, while it was coloured black, an excellent device for hiding defects in leather. The saddle was much praised in the United States Army, and may account for the failure of mounted troops to rival the mobility of range horsemen.

THE BITT. Because our own eyes are intended for long sight, we are apt to imagine that the horse has the same habit of studying the horizon. Yet when one lives with a range horse one discovers that he has never seen or imagined any such thing as an horizon. Everything beyond a hundred yards is blurred; but if he were in the habit of reading the newspaper he would hold it about six feet from his eyes, for within that distance his sight is in better focus than our own.

His eyes differ from ours in having also a much wider angle of vision. One might compare our eyes to a brace of guns in the fore {157} barbette of a warship; and the horse's eyes to two guns thrown out on sponsons wide of the ship, so that they can be swung round to cover the whole horizon. See how the horse's head is raised so that his own body does not intercept his backward sight. See how the head widens to place the eyes as far apart as possible, while the skull tapers upwards to give him a clear view of the sky, and tapers downwards to give a clear view of the ground. There is nothing in the whole sphere of possible vision which the horse cannot see by lifting and lowering his head.

The intention of the eyes, then, is not to see the distances ahead, but to scrutinize at close range all overhanging branches of the trees, the minutest details of surrounding bush, and most especially with microscopic detail everything underfoot.

Everybody knows that the horse is clever in avoiding the earth heaps made by burrowing animals, but I think there is also reason to believe that he can distinguish by relative dampness or dryness, and plant growth of the soil those tunnels and chambers of badgers and other ground game which do not reach up to the surface. It is only at full gallop that he fails to see the surface indications of blind {158} burrows, and is apt to blunder into them with disastrous results both for himself and for his rider.

But what has all this got to do with bitts? We must advance the argument to a further stage.

In the eighteenth century the Evangelist, Richard Wesley, rode on his preaching tours some seventy thousand miles on English highways. Because he could buy them cheap he always used stumbling horses. As he rode he would let the rein drop while he read the Bible, and presently would find the stumbler cured. There are some horses, he said, who will stumble over their own shadows, but nearly always a slack rein will cure them. Then one can sell them at a better price, and so make money to pay the expenses of travel.

To prevent stumbling, the range man trains his horse to slack rein, and in this matter reverts to an old war practice. The steering of horses by the knee is most excellent horsemanship.

Because I lacked the suppleness for steering by the knee it has been my practice to let the rein lie on the horse's neck. If any steering is needed, it is easy to have the two sides of the {159} rein tied in a half hitch, and, holding the knot between thumb and finger, to slap the rein on the side of the neck to show which way one is going.

Only if the horse needs handling one rides him on the rein with the utmost possible gentleness of the hand. But if the bitt comes into serious use it is better to have one which will lock on the lower jaw. I find my broken-bar snaffle pulls up a bolting horse in about five jumps, but so far only one or two out of many horses have needed so much severity. The range horse rarely pulls, and I scarcely remember seeing a double rein in use among range horsemen.

The greatest disadvantage of the rein is that it serves like a telegraph wire to carry the vibrations of fear. I prefer to use a voice which I can control rather than a hand which is apt to betray me. A low-pitched, quiet voice is very useful if one's hands are rough; and the training of hands is a grace limited to civilized horsemanship.

There is a certain pattern of headstall which has the cheek strap coming down to a piece of brass which is best described as a D or squared ring. The nose band ends at the front side of the squared ring. The chin piece ends at the {160} after side of the squared ring, and carries the end of the headrope. From the bottom side of the squared ring hangs a snap to take the ring of a snaffle. So one keeps the headstall on the horse, and snaps the bitt on or off.

The advantage of curb bitts seems to be mainly in dealing with dangerous, or very powerful horses, or for an additional delicacy in steering; but range men prefer to make appliances as simple as possible, and rather dread a complicated gear which may go wrong in sudden emergencies.

SADDLE WALLETS. For the general purposes of travel I carry in the wallets a tin of gall cure, a medicine case containing chlorodyne, and tablets of quinine, carbolic acid, cascara, a salicylate and permanganate of potash, with a lancet, forceps, surgical needles and silk, and a dressing; a mosquito salve such as oil of pennyroyal, and some netting; a toothbrush in a case, soap in a tobacco pouch, and a towel; toilet paper; a little sealed bottle of matches for emergencies; an emergency ration such as cake chocolate; luncheon; something to read; notebook and pencil.

THE HORSEMAN'S DRESS.

PROTECTION FROM LIGHT. In the history of the North American wilderness there are {161} three very distinct phases. The buckskin period of heroic adventure; the period of blue shirts and overalls marked by chaotic disorder and the period of yellow khaki and brown clothing with orderly progress.

The period of blue clothing, however, was one of perfect law and order in the wildest parts of Canada; of comparative disorder in the North-Western States, and of total chaos in the South-Western deserts. Even in Western Canada, suicide was common, and terrific drunks would seize in a moment upon whole communities; but the Mounted Police, wearing scarlet, kept their discipline so that homicides were almost invariably hanged, and robbers imprisoned with prompt efficiency.

In the North-Western States, the suicides, drunks, lynchings, robberies and homicides were considered as privileges of a free citizenship. There were vestiges of government.

In the South-Western States, the only law was that of the revolver, and duelling took the place of government.

In the three regions the amount of disorder varied precisely with the intensity of the sunlight, and lawlessness ceased with the introduction, at the turn of the twentieth century, of yellow, khaki and brown colours in clothing.

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All this may be coincidence. The latitudes of the South-Western desert in the Northern hemisphere correspond with those of the South African veldt in the Southern hemisphere. Moreover, the population of the American desert region was about equal to the British Field Force in South Africa. The American frontiersmen wore blue, the British soldiers khaki. Passing from one region to the other, I was astounded by the contrast between the blue-clad frontier supporting four hundred riders by the single industry of robbery-under-arms, and the khaki-clad army which in three-and-a-half years scored only one act of robbery. The peaceful civil population was engaged in blood feuds, promiscuous homicide, and every kind of violent crime; while the fighting army won the hearty confidence of the Boer field force by its chivalrous protection of the Boer women. In the one case crime was universal, in the other almost unknown.

And this may still be all coincidence.

The Great War is fought, mainly in latitude of scant sunlight. The German forces, clad in blue-grey, have made a practice of rape, slaughter of women and children, torture and murder of prisoners, sacking and burning of cities, bombing of unarmed folk, fighting {163} with liquid fire and with poisonous gas. The khaki clad armies have not as yet been charged with military crimes. The blue-clad French army has not fought among a foreign population, has not in fact been tempted or found a motive which makes crime attractive.

It is beyond the limits of coincidence that where large numbers of white men live an unsheltered life and wear a single colour, those dressed in blue are guilty--except the French--of violent crime, from which those dressed in compounds of red and yellow are altogether free.

To the blue, indigo and violet rays of light a white man's body is transparent as so much water. When he lives outdoors his health is normal so long as his body is sheltered by colours which beat back the actinic rays of light. If he wears blue, white, grey or any other colour transparent to these rays, they burn right through him, destroying all germs of disease, and so allowing the body to develop tremendous energy--the keynote of frontier life. After a few years of this, the actinic rays begin to destroy the tissues of the body, and nerves break down. The symptoms of neurasthenia are:

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(1) Hysteria, expressed in wanton crime.

(2) Dipsomania, expressed in tremendous debauches following long spells of abstinence.

(3) Suicide.

Every range man will remember how these three forms of nervous disorder have wrecked the lives of his friends, and how the best men were taken, not the weaklings. If so much disaster is avoided by wearing colours which protect the body from actinic burning, it seems a reasonable conduct to avoid blue clothing, and to copy the hues--such as dun, bay, or brown, which nature provides to guard the animals.

PROTECTION FROM CHILLS. To absorb sweat, all underwear should be woollen.

CONCEALMENT FROM ENEMIES. Man is the only animal whose figure is upright, cutting the lines of the landscape, and therefore conspicuous at a great distance. A single colour is therefore more easily seen than two blobs of colour such as a khaki shirt and brown trousers, or a bay shirt and dun trousers. As armies paint their guns in broken splashes of colour, men's uniforms should not be whole coloured if they are to blend with the landscape.

THE HAT. The Red Indian calls the white {165} men "hat-wearers," and takes notice of our baldness. Savages who wear no hats are never bald. Why then should we wear hats? I think that on the range, if we began early enough, we should do well to let our hair grow for the protection of the head and the nape of the neck from the sun. On the old American Frontier the pioneers did grow long hair because a man with no scalplock was not worth killing, and therefore barred from councils of the Indians.

The primitive hat of the range was a disc of bison skin, sodden, and the middle, thrust into a hole in the ground, was filled with stones. A leather string laced round the edge kept the brim from flopping. A leather band fitted the crown to the head.

Later came a Mr. Stetson of Philadelphia, with a copy of this range hat in beaver-fur felt soaked in shellac, and so felted that the edges did not flop. A bootlace round the front of the hatband passed through an eyelet above each ear, and was tied with a hard knot behind the head. This prevented the hat from blowing away and let in air behind the head to ventilate the crown. Pinching the crown with four dints for the words North West Mounted Police, branded the cowboy Stetson as a {166} soldier's hat which was adopted in South Africa by most of the mounted Irregulars of the British Empire, and by the Boy Scouts who copied the design in felt of rabbit fur.

A rival type of slouch hat which flopped down all round was used by the ancient Greeks. Looped on one side it was worn by the Cavaliers of the British Civil War, looped on three sides it became the cocked hat of the eighteenth century, and on two sides, of the Napoleonic era, surviving in diplomatic uniforms and those of naval officers and civic functionaries. Looped on one side again it was worn in the American Civil War, and by British Africanders and Australasians. Softened and not looped it replaced the stiff-brimmed Stetson on the American range.

SHIRT. It was among the Eskimo that I learned the philosophy of the shirt. These very practical folk wear a hooded shirt, close-fitting at the throat, wrists and waist. For summer the material is cotton or serge, for winter the warmest furs; but in any case it forms a bag of air warmed by the body. The shirt then consists of an outer garment of skin or a textile fabric, and an inner garment of heated air protecting the vital organs. Opened at neck and wrists it is the coolest of garments, {167} closed it is the warmest for any given weight. In contrast a coat or jacket is open at the bottom, the front, the neck and the wrists, so that four times the weight is needed to produce the warmth of a shirt.

Military dress is always a belated copy of the civil costume in each period.

It is designed by a contractor whose motive is to obtain the handling of public money. It is approved by a military official who has never done a day's labour or a day's fighting with the weapons of the enlisted man. Hence the persistence of the Roman tunic which excels all known garments in cost, weight, the cramping of the lungs, and the disabling of the arms and shoulders whose perfect freedom is needed for wielding weapons and tools. For working or fighting it has to be removed.

The mounted civilian rides for pleasure in a coat, the mounted soldier rides for duty in a tunic, the range horseman rides for a living and wears a shirt. By the exercise of human reason the range man protects his vital organs at a fourth part of the cost, weight, and encumbrance to which the fashions have subjected the sportsmen and the soldiers.

BREECHES. The dress of a gentleman has always been that of the mounted warrior. {168} When plate armour had to be given up because it was no longer bullet proof its lining survived in the form of leather breeches. These leathers are usually whitewashed, but they are still worn by the British Household Cavalry, who are "Gentlemen of the King's guard"; by hunting men; by the mounted servants who used to be armed retainers and still wear livery as such; and in the charro dress of Mexico. They belong to the tradition of aristocracy.

The principle of breeches is a close fit for the inner surface of the knee and thigh, because with heavy material such as leather or cloth any wrinkles against the saddle will tear off one's skin and cause a deal of pain. With bent leg riding, the outer surface of the thighs had to be loosened, and this loosening has developed into monstrous puffed sleeves which expose the Englishman to ridicule on an irreverent stock-range.

TROUSERS. During the French Revolution, gentlemen in the town dress of the period, with knee breeches and silk stockings, had their heads chopped off, and all who valued their health took to trousers as an expression of liberal opinions. Trousers to the heels as distinguished from trousers tucked into boots {169} are still worn in Russia to indicate liberal views. An ultra-royalist is not content with long boots, but must add rubber overshoes to make his feet look large.

Away from the influence of English fashions, the horsemen of the world wear trousers; of cloth in the Russian Empire and South Africa, of moleskin in Australasia, of duck in North America. Any kind of tight clothing which cramps the limbs is looked upon as an abomination.

BOOTS. Long boots were recommended by Xenophon to the Greeks, low shoes are older still. Both save the natural strength and spring of the ankle which is needed in mounting a horse, useful in riding him.

Towards the middle of the nineteenth century the increase of town life and improved paving made boot-tops worn under trousers appear superfluous in weight, cost and discomfort. Thus came the ankle boot as an economy and a comfort, but coupled with it was a lacing to "support" the ankle. To lace a man's ankle or a woman's waist is to replace with a merely stiff material the strong elastic muscles of the natural body, and sap the necessary health and strength which God has given.

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In all outdoor life long boots ensure dry feet, and the top should reach the knee-cap to be of real use in wet ground, or when one kneels cooking beside the camp fire. The boot legs guard one against venomous reptiles and insects, and protect the shin bone which, for lack of any muscle, is liable to be broken by many kinds of accident. Lacing either a long or an ankle boot puts an end to free ventilation of the foot, making the skin to sweat, to soften, and in many cases to become offensive.

For horsemen the boot leg is a useful protection from the chafing of stirrup leathers.

In war the soldier who wears laced boots is obliged to sleep in them, whereas long boots, kept properly greased, are so quickly put on that it is safe to remove them at night. For infantry, the world's marching record was made by Colorado miners as volunteers for the New Mexico campaign. They wore long boots, as do the Russian and Germanic armies whose marching is said to be better than that of the French and British who have laced the ankle.

The boot leg should not be shaped like a bucket to catch rain as with the United States Cavalry, or like a stovepipe to cripple a man afoot as with British horsemen. Without being tight like the puttee for the production {171} of varicocele, the boot leg should fit close. The ankle should be supple as a stocking, and "bellowsed" to make sure of suppleness. The counter should be of the hardest possible leather, thick, but fining upwards to an edge, and so made that when the man's foot spreads the foot of the boot, this fine upper edge, closes over the ball of the heel to prevent chafing. For the horseman the heel should be broad and flat, or high and tapering to prevent it from getting through the stirrups.

The boot-top of the seventeenth century came well up the thigh, but was turned down in summer for coolness, showing the brown inside of the leather. Later on this turned down top was replaced for smartness by a useless detachable cuff. For smartness also, the English leg was made rigid, disabling the wearer. Lately I went to a smart London maker for boots to suit my need of a supple ankle, flat heel, and modelled counter. The sales gentleman made me feel acutely that I was a cad, the workmen struck, and the proprietor corrected my design, revenging himself in his bill for the delay he caused me. It is in details such as this that one feels that the whole art of horsemanship in England has become a frozen convention, and is dying.

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SPURS. The spur was a prick or goad, from Roman times down to the thirteenth century. With plate armour came a rowel on a long shank. This rowel has shrunk in Europe to a small sharp weapon which draws blood, but on the American stock range it has increased in size to an average of three inches. The larger the points are the more they can be blunted, and the less they hurt a horse. On the old American range an Englishman removed the rowels from his spurs or adopted the blunt rowel before he was considered fit for human society.

The rowel should be loose enough to rattle, so that at night one may go to one's horse in pasture, and, knowing the sound of his master, he will not run away.

A gentle spur is used to encourage and not to hurt a horse, to bring him to attention, to aid in fine steering. It may be locked in the girth so that, holding on by one leg one may lie behind the horse's neck when under fire, or pick up a rope from the ground.

NECK CLOTH. A kerchief loose round the neck saves the top of the spine from sunstroke. It should be of any colour not containing blue, of the lightest silk for use as mosquito bar at night, and twenty-six inches square for use as a {173} sling, bandage, or tourniquet in case of accident.

SHAPS (from Chapareras--protection from chapparal or thorns of acacia). These are leggings reaching from waist to heel of heavy oiled leather. They differ from trousers in having no seat or fly, but consist of two trunks each laced or buckled down the outer seam of the leg, and attached at the waist to a half belt. The two half belts are tied together in front with one turn of a leather string, ready to break apart if they get caught on the horn of the saddle in bucking, and fastened again with buckle and strap behind.

The woolly or hairy fronted snaps made for snowy or wet districts are more plentiful among tenderfeet, showmen and cinema actors than they ever were upon the modest stock range. The usual pattern is of plain brown leather, nearly black with use. It is sometimes fringed, or ornamented with silver dollars or even twenty dollar golden pieces down the outer seam.

The uses of shaps are to give a grip in the saddle, to shelter the legs from heat, cold, rain, snow, to serve as armour against kicking, biting, scraping, backfalls, rolling and other diversions of horses, the horns of cattle, rocks, {174} thorns, snakes, scorpions, tarantulas, rope abrasions, grass fires and other little discomforts. Their excellent comfort in the saddle, and in lieu of blankets at night, would be enough to justify their use, but without them one would be hurt or even seriously killed in course of the day's work. As they make walking difficult they are useless for all the purposes of war.

ARMS. On the great ranges Romance is just as prevalent as sunshine, and Emotion blows as freely as the wind, but in this study we have to do with Reason. In cold blood we are trying to study equipment and methods of men whose lives depend upon sound, practical, unbiassed common sense.

When a fellow takes to the range what are his motives? If he goes out to hunt for trouble he will do well to buy a large, well-balanced, accurately-sighted, blued revolver of a simple pattern not readily clogged or damaged. He will devote his leisure for many months to practice at all ranges, in all sorts of weather, in light and darkness, afoot and mounted until he can fire a double-roll fusillade. If he gets killed at practice, so much the better for the public. If not he has only to take to the range and make himself a general nuisance {175} until he meets a better shot than himself. I never met a man with more than twenty-seven notches on his gun-stock, but have known plenty who took an honest pleasure in blotting out unnecessary gun-fools.

If a fellow takes to the range, who is not in search of trouble, but merely intends to earn an honest living and make a decent home, he is better without a weapon. When I was a younger fool than I am now, and took a delight in revolvers, and bluffed with a gun, it nearly always got me into trouble. I found that it was a poor thing to shirk the first obligation of manhood, which is self-reliance, and sink to mere dependence on a weapon.

Nobody who can possibly run away is fool enough to encounter single-handed a homicidal maniac on the war path, a gang of vigilantes or desperadoes in a nasty temper, or a hostile tribe of savages. Against such odds the use of a weapon in the open is merely suicide. The first thing needed is an inward prayer which makes one's nerve quite steady. A serene manner fills the enemy with misgivings that one has unseen support. To throw one's weapon to the enemy as a gift is to surprise him into talking. Once he begins, the more vociferous he is, the sooner he talks himself out. {176} A maniac temper will evaporate in talk in about forty-five minutes, but savages will sometimes last two hours or more before they are quite run down. After the first laugh one may walk away in safety. It is not safe to be seen in the state of collapse which follows the overstrain.

The killing of live creatures or even men has always been abhorrent to me. I am not sure of having murdered anything bigger than a crow with a broken leg, who had to be knocked out with a stone as an act of mercy. Not being a sportsman I may not advise on the use of weapons for sport.

WEAPONS. There are three weapons used only by range horsemen. The lasso, known on the range as The Rope, consists of a noose which is spun by a delicate play of the thumb, thrown to its length, and the strain taken by saddle and horse as it catches a running beast. We share this practice with the ancient Peruvians, Sarmatians, Sagartians, and Scythians, and the modern Tartars of the Asiatic steppe.

The bolas are three egg-shaped weights connected by as many plaited strings with a rawhide rope, and thrown like the riata to catch wild animals. This instrument belongs to Patagonia and the Argentine pampas.

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The stock whip. This is an Australian development of the switch. It consists of an 18-inch wooden tapering handle, a keeper of kangaroo hide, a 10-foot thong of kangaroo hide in a tapering 12 or 16 plait, an 18-inch tail of green hide, and a plaited cracker of sewing cotton. At a range of twenty feet one flick knocked a revolver out of my hand and lashed my wrist to the thigh, making me a disarmed prisoner, yet causing no more pain than the brush of a fly's wing. It convinced me as to the usefulness of this weapon.

III. THE WAYS OF RANGE HORSEMEN.

On one occasion it was my privilege to assemble seventy horsemen whose united experience of the stock-range covered the grass lands of Asia from Mongolia to Hungary, Eastern and Southern Africa, all states of Australasia, Patagonia, the Argentine, the Llano, and every state and province of the open pasture in Mexico, the United States and Canada. Among us we compiled a brief text defining our ideas of range as distinguished from civilised horsemanship. The text was printed as a chapter on "The Horse" in "The Frontiersman's Pocket Book" (John Murray), which I compiled and edited on behalf of the Legion of Frontiersmen. The present volume {178} is merely an application of these range principles to the study of horses and horsemanship.

The pretension of range horsemen as a class is to earn a living by the use of cheap working horses, riding with a weight-distributing equipment and pack transport, while we base our mobility upon a herd of remounts.

For pleasure horsemanship our feeling is one of admiring envy. No men are better able to appreciate the incomparable gallantry and elan of the hunting field, especially in Ireland, the beautiful spectacles afforded by racing, horse shows, and tournaments, the grand pageantry of state functions in European capitals. Even such pretty futilities as Portuguese bull-baiting and the Haut Ecole of France appeal to us as horsemen. As to military horsemanship we have an unbounded admiration for the fine driving of the Royal Horse Artillery, and the obstacle riding of the Mexican Regular Cavalry. On the other hand we are not stricken with awe at the circus tricks of the Cossack, although we may be surprised to see a luggage strap used for girth. Nor are we emulous of the horse-killing man-endurance rides which used to be considered good sport by European cavalry. We can do the little circus tricks ourselves, {179} and make our endurance rides without killing our horses.

Among ourselves we are more critical. The Mexican ranchero for example wears a revolver on the belt, a sword on the saddle, a silver bridle, a suit of leather beautifully laced with gold or silver, and a most prodigious hat. But do these fine feathers make him a fine bird? Or is the prancing arch-necked horse made sprightly by pinched shoes and a spade bitt?

By contrast the Boer is the most slovenly of horsemen, both in his old slop suit and in his flapping gait, but in scouting and fighting by far the best instructor we ever met, and either as enemy or friend we love his manhood. If horsemanship is an expression of manhood, we do not mind the form if we can get the fact. More manhood goes to the making of one Boer than to a hundred Mexicans.

Searching for the elements distinctive of range horsemanship, as contrasted with the pleasure, the military and the working horsemanship of civilization, a few essential things come clearly into view.

ROUGH RIDING. When a range man is asked if he can ride, as a matter of course he says "No." But if he really wants to come up against the champion outlaw horse of the {180} neighbourhood his denial is not emphatic. Like a professional singer asked for a song, he excuses himself, and pleads to a certain dryness in the throat, but, when the money inducements are sufficient, owns up that he thinks he can ride.

The rough riding of the range is incomparable, but as the broncho buster is usually smashed internally if not killed outright within three years of practice, this worst possible method of breaking a horse is lacking in practical value.

ROUGH-DRIVING. Our rough-drivers are perhaps the greatest horsemen living, and their feats are the more glorious because there are no spectators to give the stimulus of their applause. A single example may be permitted here:

Constable Harty, of D Division in the Royal North-West Mounted Police, was driving a four-horse team with a waggonette, his passengers being the Earl and Countess of Aberdeen, Viceroy and Vicereine of Canada. Fording one of the fiendish Alberta rivers the near wheeler lay down and drowned herself, while the waggonette, half afloat, was being tilted in danger of capsizal. The teamster swam under and with his knife attempted to cut the {181} dead mare out of harness. Failing in this he climbed up, stood astride with bent knees on the waggon seat, and lifted the team up the river bank to safety while the dead mare dragged under the wheels.

So varied are the styles in horsemanship that nobody pretends to leadership, and every man of real experience counts himself a student rather than a master. Only the other day an Instructor in Equitation showed me how to trot a horse straight down a steep slope of grass, explaining it was so good to supple the animal's shoulders. Of course I always knew I was a fool, but never before had I realized the abysmal depths of my own ignorance.

So far then as an old fool may be permitted, I venture to submit some gossip on the average range practice of a day's march in the wilderness. The equipment for horse and man is already dealt with, except in regard to packing, a subject which would need a special volume.

In Mounted Police regiments there is a rule that no constable may travel alone on journeys exceeding a day's march. It is a good rule, because a chap may get hurt or be left afoot, and so perish for lack of a helping hand.

It is easy enough to warn a fellow not to travel alone in wilderness, but quite impossible {182} to take even one's own advice. Most likely nobody else is going in that direction, or the fellow who offers his company would make a first-rate stranger. But in any case three horses will travel better than one, and by changing about one gets a longer march. That is why one generally travels with ride, pack and spare mounts. As to the pack, the load at which an average animal can keep pace with the mounted man is one hundred-and-twenty pounds, and with such a cargo should not be stopped either by swamps or rivers, bush or mountains. The weight may seem excessive for one man's supplies, but it is always worth while to carry a ration or two of grain.

An advantage of the three-horse method is in the encouragement it gives them on the trail. They are quick to scratch up friendship among themselves, are never happy except in company, and running together may take their man into fellowship.

BUYING. So long as the American range was really wild an unsound horse was palmed off on the nearest townsman, or shot, or turned loose as worthless. To-day the proposal to buy a horse in any western town brings forth are amazing collection of relics, cripples, colts, curios, and criminals. The old timers will {183} not sell except to horsemen, but when they offer a horse one may buy blindfold. Except in dealing with real frontiersmen one takes a horse on approval or not at all.

After the main essentials of a pure heart and four legs, I look for large eyes with no white showing, and a broad forehead. If a horse is nervous when approached, he cannot be relied upon in emergencies. If he is less than seven years of age he is not fully matured for work which needs endurance. I prefer a gelding as being less flighty, less apt to break back than a mare. I will add dollars to get a glutton, close quickly with the offer of a horse in really hard condition, refuse a rough-gaited trotter as a gift, and cannot be paid to ride a beast who bucks. As to the 'points' by which a civilised horseman judges horseflesh, they are all very nice if one has plenty of money. The prices have trebled since the turn of the century.

MAKING FRIENDS. There are many little kindnesses which help to ease the labour of a horse. He has just as much pride as a man in smart equipment, has vanity enough to relish a glossy coat, to show off in company, challenge for admiration with gallant carriage of his neck and tail, and prove himself much {184} swifter than his fellows. Pet him a little and he will insist upon being fussed with. Give such dainties as sugar, apples or carrots, and he will ever be nuzzling at your pockets. His low, soft love call for greeting of a morning is well worth while for any man to earn. This is not given to the man who thinks of a horse as "it."

THE SADDLING. After throwing the saddle on, pass the hands all over the blanket under the flaps to see there is no rucking. Lift the blanket into the arch of the saddle to be sure that no pressure will rest upon the withers. Shift the saddle aft until quite sure it is free of the shoulder blades. Girth up, and be sure the horse is not holding his wind. If there is doubt the off knee in his stomach will make him relax his lungs.

MOUNTING. The weapon, be it spear or rifle, must be wielded with the right arm, so the rein is held by the left hand. To secure the rein with the left hand involves mounting on the near side of the horse. There is an advantage, however, in departing from universal practice and training the horse to be mounted from either side. One may be hurt and unable to mount on the near side when there is peril in being left afoot.

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THE FIRST MILE. Walking the first mile supples the horse and eases the harness. A horse who holds his wind can then be butted with the knee in his stomach while the girth is pulled up to the proper notch for safety.

PUNISHMENT. If one thinks of a horse as a little child one cannot be far wrong. One does not flog a child. Discipline there must be with horses as with children, or both grow worthless, but punishment is the surest possible sign of the man's incompetence, for the horse rarely understands the motive, or understanding becomes mutinous. Nine times out of ten after punishing my horse I have found out that I had been myself in the wrong by saddling too far forward and cramping the shoulder-blades, by some defect in putting on the blanket, knotting the headrope badly, or failing to watch the farrier's work in shoeing. The seeming misconduct was due perhaps to agonizing pain, as in one instance from a hidden ulcer. So when my horse forgets his manners, loses his temper, or goes badly, I examine my conduct to find where I am to blame.

It is an outrage and disastrous to the horse's morals to strike him in front of the saddle. The exceptions to that rule are for great experts only.

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PACES. Whether the wild horse trots, is not a subject in which the range horse has given me any guidance. In handling stock he usually goes on grass and prefers to canter. In travel he usually goes on a road, and distinctly prefers to trot. From careful watching I doubt if he likes trotting on grass, as the hoofs are apt to brush and may stumble against the turf. A canter on road or very hard ground jars him, and is likely to cause injury to feet and legs.

There are certain artificial gaits most variously named such as the tripple, rack, pace, and side pace adopted I think under compulsion of lazy horsemen who find them comfortable. I have known horses using such gaits to lag miserably until I persuaded them that trotting was permitted, after which they cheered up and gained in speed.

As a slow walk tires both man and horse much more than the trot or canter, it is easy, by riding on the rein and using a little persuasion, to train an average animal in fast walking.

On the whole then a steady alternation of trot and walk, making the day's gait about five miles an hour, is the best economy for journeys.

On marches exceeding fifty-five miles a day the canter, trot and walk become alternate {187} gaits, but journeys must then be broken with days for rest.

HILLS. Trotting or running a horse down hill is a matter for high-powered animals. With ordinary horses the down slopes must be reserved for walking, the level and upward slopes for trotting. The longer and steeper hills involve walking, but even in them there are dips and levels which permit one to vary the pace, nursing the horse through the march in the least possible number of hours. It is the flagging, not the brisk day's work, which causes most fatigue.

SEAT. I have seen horses prosper under all the different and possible methods of decent horsemen, and do not believe that form makes any difference. From the Red Indians of the plains I learned to sit skin tight and upright at the trot and canter.

Having no voice to boast of, I test my seat at the various gaits by singing, and if there is any sign of quivering in the notes, look well to my grip and balance, lest I jar the horse. His ears express horror, but his kidneys seem at peace; and I have usually fattened thin horses on my journeys. The skin-tight seat is that which is practised and recommended by all range horsemen.

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EASE. General Sir Robert Baden-Powell kindly advised me as follows:--

"Letting men sit side-saddle on a tired horse is the easiest way of giving it a sore back. At walking gait it is far better for the rider to dismount and walk. The loup or lobbing canter is the easiest pace for man and horse. Except a continuous walk, the round trot is the most tiring. Frequent cantering and walking alternately--the rider then going on foot--is the way to get over the ground in going a long distance."

The above note is one of high authority as applying to English equipment; but I found it received with a certain lack of respect by men using a weight-distributing saddle. We all sit side-saddle when we please, or more often ride on one thigh or the other. None of us have seen sore back except with lean or exhausted horses, worn out saddlery, or in cases of gross neglect.

The range man does not look upon riding as a formal parade, but likes to practise circus tricks, or lounge at ease while he smokes, reads a book, sings, or plays some musical instrument. I have seen the cowhand wile away the time by eating a quart of pickles. For my part, a luncheon from the wallets is part of the {189} procedure of every pack drive, followed by a comfortable nap in the saddle. Horses often doze at a walk, even, I suspect, at the trot, and a nap for man and horse adds a great deal to the endurance of both.

As to going afoot, it takes a very steep down hill track to enforce such a thing upon me. Rumour says that we will walk half a mile to get a pony from pasture in order to ride a hundred yards on an errand. But to be afoot is for the range horseman the last depth of calamity and degradation.

My last experience of this was a traverse of the Canadian Rockies, when my partner and I rode along the bed and bars of a river until we were washed away. After that we took to the bush, a wonderful labyrinth of deadfall, beaver swamp and snowslides, which we managed to climb through by following the tracks of some wapiti. We had to work about twenty hours a day, and the four days reduced our clothes and boots to rags, but our luck was better than that of another party of four men who tried the same pass that season and were not heard of afterwards. I will not tempt young travellers by giving them the name of that pass.

GUIDANCE. While the range man never walks, but makes the saddle his home, and {190} lives at ease, it would be an error to suppose him unobservant. In wild countries one's life depends on alertness.

Few range men trust a compass, which may be lost or broken, is hard to read at night, difficult to steady at any time, and apt to point at one's gun. Point the hour hand of your watch at the sun, and half way to XII is south (for the northern hemisphere). If the sky is overcast polish a coin or finger nail and hold a match or a pin upon it vertically. The upright match will cast a shadow made by the unseen sun.

So much for the rule of thumb, but one's real reliance is on the indications of the landscape: the reading of trees and bushes as shaped by the prevalent wind; the reading of rocks or tree trunks for any mosses or lichens which grow on the side (north for northern hemisphere) on which the sun does not shine; and sundry other signs local to different regions.

The constant habit of locating north grows to an instinct. In Petrograd, as a stranger unable to ask questions or read signs in Russian, on level alluvial land, in a thick winter night, without having seen one inch of the route before, I was able to walk by the shortest {191} cut three and a half miles directly to my hotel.

If it is vital to know north, it is equally important to read country; to see by the slopes of the ground the direction of streams and watersheds, and to observe the phenomena of crossing or converging routes. One learns in time to forecast the nature of the country beyond the horizon.

Most important of all is the difficult reading of tracks and the glints on grass, also the movements of birds and animals which in an arid country are signs for finding water.

For the rest, it is useful to note the tracks on the trail showing who passed and when.

It is wise, on meeting a man, to observe his horse brands, equipment, and all the many clues which show who and what he is as distinguished from what he says. It is a gross breach of taste to ask him a personal question; but by knowing all about him one may gauge the value of his trail directions. There is indeed a need for cautiousness, for not one man in a hundred gives accurate directions which can be safely followed. In central Colorado there used to be a lady rancher whose copious trail directions had endangered so many travellers that, for a radius of two {192} hundred miles, approaching horsemen were always warned by the neighbours to be deaf to her siren voice.

GUIDES. Much as I like the savage as a man, I am cautious in engaging him as guide. On two occasions I arranged that my guide was to be shot if he showed up at home without my written release. Knowing that detail, my first guide was a success, but the second left me to die, and went home without my certificate.

Rather than put one's trust in guides, maps, trail directions, the compass or any other form of vanity and vexation, it is wiser to rely on common sense in scouting. And there the indications given by one's horse are always valuable.

SCENT. It is doubtful if man or horse is ever perfectly healthy in civilization. Both suffer from chronic catarrh, so that the smaller animal has to carry and use a handkerchief. Under range conditions the kerchief is more useful round one's neck, for the nostrils are dry, and, both in horse and man, the senses are more active. At half a mile I have smelt a mountain river--like a wet knife. Once, at about five miles on a windless day my two horses snuffed a fresh pool and bolted for it at {193} full gallop despite my frantic protests at their apparent madness. Considering that we were lost in sand-rock desert, all three of us owed our lives to that small distant smell.

The more vivid perfume of cattle I have caught up easily at four-and-a-half miles on the wind, but by their conduct I think my horses had that savour some miles before it reached my duller senses. I think the scenting powers of a horse are about ten times as strong as mine.

SIGHT. Although short-sighted, I have, with the aid of eyeglasses, bringing my vision up to normal, seen waggon dust at sixteen miles, a colliery smoke at twenty-three miles, and detail of a mountain scarp at seventy miles in the clear prairie air. So far as I could get any direct evidence, I never knew a horse to see anything at much more than a couple of hundred yards. It seems to be only in civilization where the smells and sounds are bewildering, that the horse becomes long-sighted up to perhaps a mile.

HEARING. The value of a horse's sense of hearing as compared with that of a man is very difficult to judge. On a still night I have heard men's calls from behind double windows at one and a half miles; and am not at all sure {194} that an average horse beats that. And yet, judging by the constant signalling of a horse's ears which point at every sound, I think his sense of hearing catches vibrations above the register of human ears, and many notes at close range too faint to impress our senses.

Whatever a horse may smell, hear or see, he points out with nice gestures of the ears and nostrils which are of infinite value for a man to read and understand. They convey to the practised eye all sorts of warnings and useful little hints. It is the training in peace of the habit of observation which makes the scout for war.

THE FEAR OF SHADOWS. Once I took a range horse into a forest where there were flocks of sheep, herded a good deal of nights by cougars (Felix concolor) who prospered on their mutton. These cougars used to come round my camp, liked it, I think, because there was no gun-smell, and sang most wonderfully, sitting so near that I could see the gleam of firelight on their eyes. I liked them, but my horse would stand astride the fire trembling. I tried to explain to him that this was vanity, because he was really far too thin to be edible. While the cougars had nice fat sheep for the asking, why should they care for horse bones! But all the signs he gave of loneliness and fear {195} I have seen many a time since then when I have taken range horses far into the woods.

HALTS. If only to give my horses a chance to stale and, with a gelding, to make sure that the sheath is clean, I make a short halt after each two hours. At every halt the genuine horseman throws his rein to the ground so that a horse will be tripped if he attempts to break away. Range horses are trained to stand to a thrown rein, and if necessary are given a sack of earth to drag until they learn the wisdom in obedience. If one has to tie the horse to anything, a supple bush is better than a rigid tree, lest he pull back with his whole weight for the purpose of breaking the rein or rope by which he has been fastened.

In my short halts I always hold the rein while the horse gets a bite of grass or a little water. The reason for this is that he may be suddenly frightened by a snake or a bustling squirrel, and if he breaks away it might be awkward to be left afoot: so many men have been left afoot and perished.

In the greatest heat one may water horses fully if they stand knee deep in pool or stream; but if they drink their fill they go sluggishly afterwards and need to drink the more. For a man a sip of cold tea allays thirst better than {196} a pint of water, and for neither the horse nor the rider is it wise to drink to repletion until after the day's work.

In lone travelling with a pack horse I always make the day's work in a single drive rather than waste time unloading and loading the pack in a day which may prove too brief for the finding of a camp before dark. The earliest rising, the most urgent driving are needed to make sure against a dry camp, or being caught in bad ground by the fall of night.

THE NIGHT HALT. In country where the grass is eaten for miles surrounding watering places, or where there is danger from hostile savages, I always drive on from the evening water until I can camp in safety on good pasture. Also one needs a margin of time to walk the last mile or two, bringing the horses in cool at the end of the day's work.

Rather than let horses stand shivering in a wet or cold gale, it is better to march, and keep travelling until shelter can be found.

In great heat it is better to travel at night, but one should be in camp from about 12.30 to 3.30 a.m., the usual sleeping hours.

As to horses in camp, one must throw them to pasture beyond the camping place, so as to hear them passing if they attempt to break {197} back. It may be necessary to hobble or even picket one of them as a precaution, or if they lack water to hobble all who cannot be picketed. If any animal is to be hobbled or tied up, the mare comes first.

In forest, where horses are ill at ease, especially if pasture is scanty, I hang a bell to the neck of every horse, and camp at some spot where the back trail can be fenced, then sleep against the gate. On some occasions I have watched all night.

Where flies are bad, it is kindly to bank a fire with damp herbage which makes a smoke in which the horses can shelter. It is in forest and fly country that one has greatest need of a few feeds of oats in the pack, or even slung to the saddles.

If a horse is sweating and exhausted, I rub him down with whiskey or any other form of alcohol, because its rapid evaporation cools and refreshes him. A little alcohol rubbed on the part heated by the saddle enables one to feed grain even in short halts.

For cold and exhaustion I give sugar, if possible in the water. The carbon is fuel which enters the blood, and so becomes exposed to oxygen in the lungs, where its burning produces the heat which warms the body.

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In hot weather, oatmeal and sugar in water make a refreshing drink useful to horses as to working humans.

If a horse is leg-weary and stiff, a rub down or massage with liniment slacks the strung tendons.

SORES. I never unsaddle without making a careful search for water blisters or any sign of chafing. These found in time can be marked with axle grease, which registers a black spot on the sweat pad or the blanket. The blanket can then be folded in such a way as to relieve the pressure, or a bit of sacking shaped into a ring to enclose the threatened spot beneath or between the foldings of the blanket. The same kind of padding can be made under the girth for the relief of girth galls.

Despite the utmost care, horses in soft condition or when underfed, or wearing harness which has hardened or warped after long spells of wet, are liable to sores. I have cured most terrible cases by a daily practice of riding the patient to sweating heat, then suddenly unsaddling, and lashing on cold salt water. The various copper ointments known as gall cures are worth their weight in gold so long as one works the horse, but have the defect of forming a hard scab which breaks away before {199} the wound is ready. One abscess caused by a warped saddle tree defeated me altogether and put the animal out of action for four months. As to sores in the starvation of the northern forest, the story would be too terrible to tell.

CRACKED HEELS. In cold weather, if we do not dry our hands before a fire after we have washed them, we are liable to chapped skin. Wet followed by cold, especially from muddy ground, causes cracked heels. The prevention by thorough drying after every wetting may be impossible and this form of lameness is difficult to cure. A washing with soft soap, and a thorough drying, followed by packing in grease is the best range practice I know of, but does not always succeed.

FEEDING. In making the feed as varied as possible I have fallen into error more than once. A bran mash, for example, is best when there is no march on the following day. I made a horse dangerously ill with scouring by turning him into an abandoned field of green and standing maize. On another occasion, turning hot, wet, exhausted horses into a shed for shelter from a storm, I found out too late that a sack of oats had been spilt upon the floor. The result was colic.

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Feeding horses to perfection needs a touch of artistry. Small feeds of grain, for instance, by making the animal ravenous for more, enable one to double his allowance without stalling him. Salt, sugar, carrots, apples, help to keep up his interest in life, as rewards to be earned, and tokens that one really cares for him. If a horse is scoured a dose of salt water will help him. For colic one has to lead him about while the pain lasts, and above all things prevent him from rolling, which is sometimes fatal.

It is long now since I had to dispense with a fire for fear of advertising my camp to hostile savages, and the old glorious range in North America is woefully shrinking before the advance of settlement. The rancher who made the traveller welcome as a guest is replaced by a surly farmer who takes money for rental of his barn-yard. The range horseman who used to own the town when he rolled in from the plains is now considered, as Europe views the gypsy, with suspicion.

One trait of the range rider recalls the past. No man lays a hand on our horses unless he wants a fight. It is a rule that the horseman tends his own stock so long as he is able to stand. He must be very ill or badly hurt before he surrenders that.

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At range stables where there is a dust bath one unsaddles on arrival to let the horses roll. At town stables where there is no dust bath one slacks the girths, removes the bitts, gives half a drink, and some hay. An hour later when the rider is fed he comes back to cool horses who can be unsaddled without fear of any blisters which might turn into sores. Then comes full watering, and grain. While the horse is busy eating, pick out his feet, dry out wet heels, scrape off mud, and wisp down. After the stall is cleaned, and bedded, and the manger filled with hay for the night, the horseman is off duty; but a range man prefers to sleep in the barn loft in order to save his horses in the event of fire, and be up early with the morning grain.

IV. RECORDS.

Writing without notes or books, it is difficult to recall the records of long distance riding which form the best tests of endurance, and so give one a standard of value for man, equipment and horse. Driven to rely on memory I note first that the historic records are vague, giving but scanty data. Everybody knows for example that Bucephalus (Ox-head) the Thessalian charger of Alexander the Great was a horse of notable endurance, but the question {202} is--what could he do on continuous journeys? Charles XII. of Sweden rode in a hurry from Constantinople to Dantzic, but what was the time for that distance, and was it done by one horse or by reliefs? Dick King, a despatch rider, made good time on one horse from Port Elizabeth to Port Natal, but I do not remember his gait for the six hundred miles. Somebody who was not Dick Turpin, but possibly another rogue of the same name, made a single march from London to York on a mare called Black Bess, but that was a horse-killing feat, as much disqualified by decent men as the Inter-Army horse-killing rides which disgusted the horsemen of Europe not many years ago.

In the nineties Lieutenant Peschkov, a Cossack officer, rode a Dun pony from Vladivostock to Petrograd. This at any decent gait is a world record for a road ride, on a route with hotels at every stage. But legend makes the gait thirty-eight miles a day for six thousand miles, and on that I have my doubts. Working across country I found that my best horse did one thousand three hundred and seventy miles at twenty-one miles a day; and the next best one thousand and forty at the same pace; but on the whole trip, made with four successive {203} mounts, the three thousand six hundred miles took two hundred days. This works out at the very poor average of eighteen miles a day But for delays in buying horses the average would have been twenty-one miles, and I doubt if any horse outside of fairy tales can do much more on a six thousand mile journey.

Apart from the vagueness and doubtfulness of the stories, the standard which they set up for comparison seems to be very low as compared with the annals of range horsemanship. The following records were made for the most part with half or three-quarter bred range raised horses, and all with weight-distributing saddles.

ONE DAY RIDES. A friend of mine, an Australian stockman, with a weight-distributing saddle, and leading a pack animal, crossed the state of Victoria from the Murray to Melbourne, one hundred and forty-three miles by the route taken, covered in twenty-six hours.

A constable of the Royal North-West Mounted Police of Canada with a forty-two pound stock-saddle on a buckskin gelding, rode from Regina to Wood Mountain Post, one hundred and thirty-two miles by sunlight, and the horse bucked him off at the finish.

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On enquiry I found that the trail between Forts Macleod and Calgary, Alberta, one hundred and eight miles, had been ridden in a day by most of the Mounted Police and cowboys who happened to go that way.

SIX-DAY RIDES. Kit Carson carried military despatches from Omaha to Los Angeles and back (circa 1841), a lone ride through hostile tribes of four thousand four hundred miles. When he was resting at Los Angeles he joined a party of Mexican gentlemen each taking one saddle horse. The six men rode along the California coast from Los Angeles to San Francisco, six hundred miles in six days. Only two of the party changed horses.

Among the Robbers' Roost, and affiliated gangs of Rocky Mountain outlaws, I found that it was their custom to plant little bunches of ponies here and there in pasture. When they happened to be in a hurry they would travel from pasture to pasture, and at each of these take a fresh mount. Six hundred miles in six days was not unusual they told me, and, from what the sheriffs said who tried to catch them, I think that the robbers spoke in moderation. They were much the most truthful men I have met on the stock range.

MARCHES WITHOUT REMOUNTS. In the {205} North-West Mounted Police we reckoned a day's march at forty-two miles for saddle horses. On Colonel Irvine's three hundred mile march to prevent the North-West Rebellion of 1885 we carried all fuel, forage and supplies in sleighs so that the speed was reduced to that of a convoy, but it worked out at forty-two miles average, ending with sixty-two miles on the last day.

A two thousand two hundred mile Viceregal tour is said to have worked out at forty miles a day; but one patrol I rode in of seven hundred miles only gave thirty-four miles a day for average, even with occasional change of horses. It was bad, shocking bad, but has it been equalled by any mounted troops of Europe?

MARCHES WITH REMOUNTS. On the cattle industry a Roundup Outfit is commanded by the owner or by his foreman. Under him are three separate departments: (1) The cook, who drives a waggon which carries the men's bedding and is fitted up as a kitchen. The waggon forms a moving base to the expedition, and travels about ten miles a day. (2) The horse wrangler is a herder in charge of the herd of ponies used as remounts. (3) The working force of cowboys.

Each rider has his own string of ponies {206} usually seven in number running with the herd.

ROUTINE. Long before dawn the wrangler drives the herd home to the camp, where two men hold ropes outward from the waggon, making a rough enclosure in which the ponies are handled. Each rider selects from his own string the pony he needs for the morning's work. At noon the herd is run in and he picks out his afternoon horse. At supper time the herd is run in and he selects his horse for night duty.

The rider uses his first three horses and his second three horses on alternate days, keeping the seventh in reserve. These animals are not fed with grain, but live entirely on the range grass. By changing his mount six times in each two days he is able to ride on grass-fed ponies at an average rate of fifty miles a day for a period of eight months. The distance ridden in this season is 11,150 miles.

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