478 



CONSERVATION 



dollar colt was reduced to a twenty- 

 dollar crowbait of uncertain age, whose 

 temper and countenance were alike, 

 "cut bias." At the time I thought the 

 world was cruel but infinite values, 

 and no end of delight, have I had from 

 it since then. So, I think it passing well 

 to let our new boys find their own 

 horses and learn as they choose in the 

 famous dame-school of Mistress Expe- 

 rience, whose limber birch-rods all of 

 us have known. 



I have sat among the rangers, time 

 and time again, asking them about their 

 horses. It will not work ; they cannot 

 tell things themselves. But the things 

 sometimes leak out like mountain 



"Wouldn't ride this beast, but can't 

 afford a new one." 



"He is spoiling your naturally sweet 

 disposition," I remarked. 



The ranger grinned : "A loco horse 

 generally makes a loco rider. I wish I 

 had a horse I could care for." 



We care almost too much for some 

 of our horses. I know a ranger who 

 ruined two fine colts, worth $125 

 apiece. He married and took his young 

 wife back on the ranges, reporting cat- 

 tle cases. They camped on a meadow 

 where the colts ate wild parsnip roots, 

 and so died incontinently. 



"My little wife she cried all that night 

 over her pet colt, only broke that 



Forest Inspector Meeting Some Cattle [Men 



springs in the rocks. You note that one 

 ranger, for instance, has a horse that 

 he watches with extreme care. He car- 

 ries a pistol, in fact, so as to kill the 

 animal if need be, to save his own life, 

 or that of some one else. The horse is 

 an "outlaw," desperate, treacherous, 

 more than half-crazy at times. Behind 

 all this looms up a story too long for 

 this article. 



One ranger whom I asked why he 

 rode that "outlaw," said tersely 

 "When he wants to he can wear out 

 three common horses." 



Said another ranger, whose "out- 

 law" horse was liable to cripple him if 

 vigilance were relaxed a second : 



spring, and gentle as a kitten. We had 

 a hard time getting anywhere. We just 

 cached our packs, and rode the old 

 plugs out, and felt bad all the way. I 

 wish the Government could insure our 

 horses." 



I know a ranger who owned a very 

 safe and capable horse. One day this 

 ranger tied a long cross-cut saw on the 

 top of his pack, for he was going to 

 saw logs out of the trail. He was an 

 old, experienced ranger, and a fine 

 packer. 



Well, the saw worked loose, in part : 

 it slipped, cut the poor horse's hips, and 

 of course he ran. The saw flew loose at 

 one end, swung so violently as the 



