Part V. the Markings of the Horse.

Darwin wrote of the probable "descent of all existing races from a single dun-coloured, more or less striped primitive stock to which our horses occasionally revert."

The stories of the Great Ice Age and of Bering Land have shown us a variety of swiftly changing climates in which the original three-toed dun striped ancestors begat a special type of horse for each kind of habitat. The high lands and high latitudes, the low lands and low latitudes, the tall grasses, the short grasses, the open woodlands, the northern downs and valleys, bred each their special type of the wild horse.

EVIDENCE OF THE WIND. It is not so very long since the last clumps of timber vanished from the steppes. Still on the North American range one finds the trunks and roots of forest trees, which silicate swamps have changed into masses of jaspar onyx and chalcedony; and these have not had time to sink as stones do into the soil. In a seven hundred mile ride across the Canadian plains, I found a living clump of three pines distant a hundred-and-fifty miles from the edge of the shrunken forest. Such shelters have indeed so lately disappeared that the horse has not yet learned the trick of {26} wind endurance. If his ears and nostrils were not so fearfully sensitive, he need only face up wind, and the hair of his body would be blown down flat to protect him. As it is, the extreme sensitiveness of his face compels him to stand or drift with buttocks turned to the gale, tail tucked, head down. It is only in that position that the hair is blown up from the skin and fails to give him protection. We may conclude then that he was inured to torrid summers and even to polar winters before he had to encounter strong gales away from shelter. Long after the three-toed ancestor had become a horse, the steppes had abundant tree clumps for wind breaks in heavy weather.

THE AFRICAN BAY. In every striped horse it seems a general rule that the body stripes are curved in such a way as to point to a spot on the ground midway between the four legs. The leg bands merely cut the upright lines of the limbs so that these disappear. Some natural process of colour photography has made the body stripes a bold copy of the upward and outward spread of the tussock grass. It was for concealment then among the rich forage of the tussocks that some of the parent species wore a gorgeous livery which passed on to the Zebra.

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From all accounts the Sahara is the bed of a recent sea, but, possibly along its eastern side, a horse range extended from the Soudan to the shores of the Mediterranean. Such range had not less than ten inches a year of rainfall, carried by the sea breezes from surrounding waters. There was moisture enough for trees, and there are abundant traces of quite recent timber.

The winds were drying, the clouds were burned out, the light was increasing to a terrific strength, and the tussocks began to fail. On the American range I have noticed that these tall grasses, abundant only thirty years ago, have become quite rare since the pasture was overstocked. As the tall grasses perished and streaks of naked desert crept into the dying pasture, all hope of concealment for horses was at an end, the brilliant striping ceased to have any value, and the need for speed outweighed the need for sleep. Three and a half hours for sleep, standing, suffices the modern horse.

And as the cover vanished, every possible military precaution became imperative against surprise by lions. The gay striped painting had become a danger, and whole colour was the last chance of concealment for purposes {28}

of rest. Close herding by the stallions, a single line formation with vedettes and flankers, signals by cries and stamping, and, above all things, speed, were needed to save the horse under the new conditions. The arched markings on the face of the striped horse changed to a star, the leg bands to stockings: white marks to identify members of the herd on the darkest nights. Such markings are very common among horses of desert descent.

As the deadly actinic rays of light poured into the body between its bars of painting, the natural dye secreted in the skin began to fill the bright streaks with strong colour. So the striped Dun became the desert Bay, with black points and white markings, gifted with the intelligence needed in family and tribal life, but above all things endowed with a speed which was the despair of lions and is the glory of all honest horsemen. So entirely was the danger from lions overcome that the Bay horse has forgotten the art of bucking, which once was needed in fighting beasts of prey. Speed has given the steel-hard hoofs, the steel-strong limbs, delicate modelling to cut the resistance of the air, the tail set and carried high for the finest steering, and almost every other trait of our Barbs and Arabs. So {29} intense is the light in his native pasture that even the refracted glow from the ground has had to be met by dark colouring of the under surfaces, wherein he differs from the horses of higher latitudes.

ZEBRA AND QUAGGA. Southward from the great Desert the forest of Equatorial Africa is bordered to the eastward and the south by grass lands. In these a few patches of jungle and tussock grasses have preserved the colouring of striped horses down to our own time. Their painting is most brilliant towards the Equator, fades in the higher latitudes, and in Cape Colony only the neck and shoulder stripes remained in the Quagga breed. The land does not continue into the latitude of the Dun horse. It is quite possible that with the coming of the Boers tame cattle ate off the Quagga pasturage, but rifles have put the wild stock to an end with the advance of human settlement.

THE ASSES. These creatures of mountainous deserts are coloured like the boulders of a hillside, but rely for their safety rather on high intelligence and sure-footed speed. Being desert animals of course they are dry inside, so that their efforts to produce the most beautiful music merely rub leather against leather like {30} the sole of a creaking boot. They should be petted like operatic tenors, and indeed there are no animals in the world who improve so rapidly in response to decent treatment.

There is a legend that the ass who carried the Cross of our Lord Christ upon the way to Calvary had ever afterwards its shadow on his back, still worn by the African breed as a special badge of honour. It is called the endurance mark, and this with the same leg bands is the special brand of the Dun horse of Asia.

THE DUN HORSE. It was in the Yellowstone Park that I paid ten dollars for a thirteen hand pony called Buck, a bright Dun with the endurance cross and leg bands. Below the black knees and hocks he wore white stockings, and had black mane, tail and points. He taught me the real protective colour for short grass. His upper and lower body lines were the curves of prairie ridges, while the limbs were so cross-coloured that the upright lines became invisible, save when he moved, at about two hundred yards. It was lucky that he always came at my call, because so far as my poor eyesight went, he was lost to me every evening so soon as I sent him off to graze. His wall eye and game knee were acquired from meeting Christians, but an odd trick of carrying {31} the lower jaw sideways while he was thinking, an unusual sweetness of character, and most uncommon pluck, may have been primitive traits. He trotted with my pack a thousand miles, until in Utah I gave him to a cowboy rather than take him on into the desert ahead, where he might die of thirst. I did not know in those days that he was a desert horse who knew a deal more about finding water than ever I shall learn.

The horse became extinct in the Americas, the Quagga in South Africa, the wild Bay in Northern Africa. The numbers of the wild asses and of the zebras are shrinking rapidly. The wild Dun, or Tarpan, whose range was the whole steppe of Russia and North Asia, is now represented in three small districts of Mongolia by the Prejevalski herds. So far, then, as wild horses are concerned, the species is dying out.

Among tame horses, to judge from what one sees in the larger stables, there must be at least one hundred Bays, Browns and Chestnuts to every real Dun. All breeders select from the Bay type as distinguished from the Dun, whose only special value is in endurance. In the run-wild or feral herds, however, the Duns have a fair chance, and form a large proportion of the stock. They are not only hardy but {32} also fertile. If man became extinct, the steppes and prairies would breed Duns, and gradually kill out the other types.

From the fierce dry heat of the Gobi Desert to the utmost rigors of Siberian cold, the Dun will thrive wherever there is grass. His coat is warm and cool for any climate, greasy enough to shed rain, and proof against every weather except wet driving snow or a strong gale. Through the longest winters he keeps alive by grubbing through the snow to get at grass. The droughts of summer may so increase the journey between food and water that he gets very little time for rest, but somehow he manages to pull through, the last of all horses to yield to difficulties. Lacking the speed and beauty of the Bay, he lives where the Bay will die. In danger or difficulty the Bay is a fool in a panic, while the Dun keeps cool, reasons, and uses common sense with a strong, hearty valour. One would select the Bay for pleasure, but the Dun for serious work under the saddle, for road endurance, for long and rapid marches, and all that makes mounted troops of value in campaigns.

Just as the working man may be rendered irritable and even vicious by unfair treatment in our social life, the working horse is made {33} ill-tempered and dangerous to handle by bad horse-mastership. So the Dun has a terrible reputation, and in his defence I am a sort of Devil's advocate. He is the typical range horse whose manners and customs will be the theme of the next chapter.