I resolved
to
have
a
horse
to
ride. I had
never
seen
such
wild, free,
magnificent
horsemanship outside
of
a
circus
as
these
picturesquely-clad Mexicans, Californians
and
Mexicanized Americans displayed
in
Carson
streets
every
day.
How
they
rode!
Leaning
just
gently forward
out
of
the
perpendicular,
easy
and
nonchalant,
with
broad
slouch-hat brim
blown
square
up
in
front,
and
long
riata
swinging
above
the
head,
they
swept
through
the
town
like
the
wind!
The
next
minute
they
were
only
a
sailing
puff
of
dust
on
the
far
desert.
If
they
trotted,
they
sat
up
gallantly
and
gracefully,
and
seemed
part
of
the
horse;
did
not
go
jiggering
up
and
down
after
the
silly
Miss-Nancy
fashion
of
the
riding-schools. I had
quickly
learned
to
tell
a
horse
from
a cow,
and
was
full
of
anxiety
to
learn
more. I
was
resolved
to
buy
a horse.
While
the
thought
was
rankling
in
my mind,
the
auctioneer came skurrying
through
the
plaza
on
a
black
beast
that
had
as
many
humps
and
corners
on
him
as
a dromedary,
and
was
necessarily uncomely;
but
he
was
"going, going,
at
twenty-two!—horse,
saddle
and
bridle
at
twenty-two dollars, gentlemen!"
and
I
could
hardly
resist. A
man
whom
I
did
not
know
(he
turned
out
to
be
the
auctioneer's brother) noticed
the
wistful
look
in
my eye,
and
observed
that
that
was
a
very
remarkable
horse
to
be
going
at
such
a price;
and
added
that
the
saddle
alone
was
worth
the
money.
It
was
a
Spanish
saddle,
with
ponderous
'tapidaros',
and
furnished
with
the
ungainly
sole-leather covering
with
the
unspellable name. I said I had
half
a
notion
to
bid.
Then
this
keen-eyed
person
appeared
to
me
to
be
"taking my measure";
but
I
dismissed
the
suspicion
when
he
spoke,
for
his
manner
was
full
of
guileless
candor
and
truthfulness. Said he: "I
know
that
horse—know
him
well.
You
are
a stranger, I
take
it,
and
so
you
might
think
he
was
an
American horse, maybe,
but
I
assure
you
he
is
not.
He
is
nothing
of
the
kind; but—excuse my
speaking
in
a
low
voice,
other
people
being near—he is,
without
the
shadow
of
a doubt, a
Genuine
Mexican Plug!" I
did
not
know
what
a
Genuine
Mexican
Plug
was,
but
there
was
something
about
this
man's
way
of
saying
it,
that
made
me
swear
inwardly
that
I
would
own
a
Genuine
Mexican Plug,
or
die. "Has
he
any
other—er—advantages?" I inquired,
suppressing
what
eagerness I could.
He
hooked
his
forefinger
in
the
pocket
of
my army-shirt, led
me
to
one
side,
and
breathed
in
my
ear
impressively
these
words: "He
can
out-buck
anything
in
America!" "Going, going, going—at twent—ty—four
dollars
and
a half, gen—" "Twenty-seven!" I shouted,
in
a frenzy. "And sold!" said
the
auctioneer,
and
passed
over
the
Genuine
Mexican
Plug
to
me. I
could
scarcely
contain
my exultation. I paid
the
money,
and
put
the
animal
in
a
neighboring
livery-stable
to
dine
and
rest
himself.
In
the
afternoon
I brought
the
creature
into
the
plaza,
and
certain
citizens
held
him
by
the
head,
and
others
by
the
tail,
while
I mounted him.
As
soon
as
they
let
go,
he
placed
all
his
feet
in
a bunch together,
lowered
his
back,
and
then
suddenly arched
it
upward,
and
shot
me
straight
into
the
air a
matter
of
three
or
four
feet! I came
as
straight
down
again,
lit
in
the
saddle, went instantly
up
again, came
down
almost
on
the
high pommel,
shot
up
again,
and
came
down
on
the
horse's neck—all
in
the
space
of
three
or
four
seconds.
Then
he
rose
and
stood
almost
straight
up
on
his
hind
feet,
and
I,
clasping
his
lean
neck
desperately, slid
back
into
the
saddle
and
held
on.
He
came down,
and
immediately
hoisted
his
heels
into
the
air,
delivering
a
vicious
kick
at
the
sky,
and
stood
on
his
forefeet.
And
then
down
he
came
once
more,
and
began
the
original
exercise
of
shooting
me
straight
up
again.
The
third
time I went
up
I
heard
a
stranger
say: "Oh, don't
he
buck, though!"
While
I
was
up, somebody struck
the
horse
a
sounding
thwack
with
a
leathern
strap,
and
when
I
arrived
again
the
Genuine
Mexican
Plug
was
not
there. A
California
youth
chased
him
up
and
caught
him,
and
asked
if
he
might
have
a ride. I
granted
him
that
luxury.
He
mounted
the
Genuine, got lifted
into
the
air once,
but
sent
his
spurs
home
as
he
descended,
and
the
horse
darted
away
like
a telegram.
He
soared
over
three
fences
like
a bird,
and
disappeared
down
the
road
toward
the
Washoe Valley. I sat
down
on
a stone,
with
a sigh,
and
by
a
natural
impulse
one
of
my
hands
sought
my forehead,
and
the
other
the
base
of
my stomach. I
believe
I
never
appreciated,
till
then,
the
poverty
of
the
human
machinery—for I
still
needed
a
hand
or
two
to
place
elsewhere. Pen cannot
describe
how
I
was
jolted up.
Imagination
cannot
conceive
how
disjointed
I was—how internally,
externally
and
universally I
was
unsettled, mixed
up
and
ruptured.
There
was
a
sympathetic
crowd
around
me, though.
One
elderly-looking
comforter
said: "Stranger, you've been taken in. Everybody
in
this
camp
knows
that
horse.
Any
child,
any
Injun,
could
have
told
you
that
he'd buck;
he
is
the
very
worst
devil
to
buck
on
the
continent
of
America.
You
hear
me. I'm Curry.
Old
Curry.
Old
Abe Curry.
And
moreover,
he
is
a simon-pure, out-and-out,
genuine
d—d Mexican plug,
and
an
uncommon
mean
one
at
that, too. Why,
you
turnip,
if
you
had laid
low
and
kept dark, there's
chances
to
buy
an
American
horse
for
mighty
little
more
than
you
paid
for
that
bloody
old
foreign
relic." I gave
no
sign;
but
I
made
up
my
mind
that
if
the
auctioneer's brother's funeral
took
place
while
I
was
in
the
Territory
I
would
postpone
all
other
recreations
and
attend
it.
After
a gallop
of
sixteen
miles
the
Californian
youth
and
the
Genuine
Mexican
Plug
came
tearing
into
town
again,
shedding
foam-flakes
like
the
spume-spray
that
drives
before
a typhoon, and,
with
one
final
skip
over
a wheelbarrow
and
a Chinaman, cast
anchor
in
front
of
the
"ranch."
Such
panting
and
blowing!
Such
spreading
and
contracting
of
the
red
equine
nostrils,
and
glaring
of
the
wild
equine
eye!
But
was
the
imperial
beast
subjugated?
Indeed
he
was
not.
His
lordship
the
Speaker
of
the
House
thought
he
was,
and
mounted
him
to
go
down
to
the
Capitol;
but
the
first
dash
the
creature
made
was
over
a
pile
of
telegraph poles
half
as
high
as
a church;
and
his
time
to
the
Capitol—one
mile
and
three
quarters—remains
unbeaten
to
this
day.
But
then
he
took
an
advantage—he left
out
the
mile,
and
only
did
the
three
quarters.
That
is
to
say,
he
made
a straight
cut
across
lots,
preferring
fences
and
ditches
to
a
crooked
road;
and
when
the
Speaker
got
to
the
Capitol
he
said
he
had been
in
the
air
so
much
he
felt
as
if
he
had
made
the
trip
on
a comet.
In
the
evening
the
Speaker
came
home
afoot
for
exercise,
and
got
the
Genuine
towed
back
behind
a
quartz
wagon.
The
next
day
I
loaned
the
animal
to
the
Clerk
of
the
House
to
go
down
to
the
Dana
silver
mine,
six
miles,
and
he
walked
back
for
exercise,
and
got
the
horse
towed. Everybody I
loaned
him
to
always
walked back;
they
never
could
get
enough
exercise
any
other
way. Still, I
continued
to
loan
him
to
anybody
who
was
willing
to
borrow
him, my
idea
being
to
get
him
crippled,
and
throw
him
on
the
borrower's hands,
or
killed,
and
make
the
borrower
pay
for
him.
But
somehow
nothing
ever
happened
to
him.
He
took
chances
that
no
other
horse
ever
took
and
survived,
but
he
always
came
out
safe.
It
was
his
daily
habit
to
try
experiments
that
had
always
before
been
considered
impossible,
but
he
always
got through. Sometimes
he
miscalculated a little,
and
did
not
get
his
rider
through
intact,
but
he
always
got
through
himself.
Of
course
I had tried
to
sell
him;
but
that
was
a stretch
of
simplicity
which
met
with
little
sympathy.
The
auctioneer
stormed
up
and
down
the
streets
on
him
for
four
days,
dispersing
the
populace, interrupting business,
and
destroying
children,
and
never
got a bid—at
least
never
any
but
the
eighteen-dollar
one
he
hired
a
notoriously
substanceless
bummer
to
make.
The
people
only
smiled
pleasantly,
and
restrained
their
desire
to
buy,
if
they
had any.
Then
the
auctioneer brought
in
his
bill,
and
I withdrew
the
horse
from
the
market.
We
tried
to
trade
him
off
at
private
vendue
next,
offering
him
at
a
sacrifice
for
second-hand tombstones,
old
iron,
temperance
tracts—any
kind
of
property.
But
holders
were
stiff,
and
we
retired
from
the
market
again. I
never
tried
to
ride
the
horse
any
more. Walking
was
good
enough
exercise
for
a
man
like
me,
that
had
nothing
the
matter
with
him
except
ruptures,
internal
injuries,
and
such
things. Finally I tried
to
give
him
away.
But
it
was
a failure.
Parties
said
earthquakes
were
handy
enough
on
the
Pacific
coast—they
did
not
wish
to
own
one.
As
a
last
resort
I
offered
him
to
the
Governor
for
the
use
of
the
"Brigade."
His
face
lit
up
eagerly
at
first,
but
toned
down
again,
and
he
said
the
thing
would
be
too
palpable.
Just
then
the
livery
stable
man
brought
in
his
bill
for
six
weeks' keeping—stall-room
for
the
horse,
fifteen
dollars;
hay
for
the
horse,
two
hundred
and
fifty!
The
Genuine
Mexican
Plug
had
eaten
a ton
of
the
article,
and
the
man
said
he
would
have
eaten
a
hundred
if
he
had
let
him. I
will
remark here,
in
all
seriousness,
that
the
regular
price
of
hay
during
that
year
and
a
part
of
the
next
was
really
two
hundred
and
fifty
dollars
a ton.
During
a
part
of
the
previous
year
it
had
sold
at
five
hundred
a ton,
in
gold,
and
during
the
winter
before
that
there
was
such
scarcity
of
the
article
that
in
several
instances
small
quantities
had brought
eight
hundred
dollars
a ton
in
coin!
The
consequence
might
be
guessed
without
my telling it:
peopled
turned
their
stock
loose
to
starve,
and
before
the
spring
arrived
Carson
and
Eagle
valleys
were
almost
literally carpeted
with
their
carcases!
Any
old
settler
there
will
verify
these
statements. I
managed
to
pay
the
livery
bill,
and
that
same
day
I gave
the
Genuine
Mexican
Plug
to
a passing
Arkansas
emigrant
whom
fortune
delivered
into
my hand.
If
this
ever
meets
his
eye,
he
will
doubtless
remember
the
donation.
Now
whoever
has had
the
luck
to
ride
a
real
Mexican
plug
will
recognize
the
animal
depicted
in
this
chapter,
and
hardly
consider
him
exaggerated—but
the
uninitiated
will
feel justified
in
regarding
his
portrait
as
a fancy sketch, perhaps.