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4,^.0 ,^y_ TR-r H OJ4S 
Vol. LXVI. No. 3015. 
NEW YORK, NOVEMBER 9, 1907. 
WEEKLY. *1.00 PER YEAR. 
“THE CALL OF THE WILD.’’ 
(With Apologies to Jack London.) 
It seems strange that after so many generations of 
“civilizing” man is still inclined to do “wild” things. 
Even our great President seems to have spells when 
this “wild” feeling overcomes him, and he takes him¬ 
self off to hunt big game like the Indians of old. I 
must confess to something of this kind myself. I sup¬ 
pose I ought not to, for the Hope Farm man tells us 
that to be successful in one’s business one must be like 
the things he cares for. Therefore I, as a Jersey 
breeder, ought to be like a gentle little Jersey, and 
should have no desire to do “strenuous” things and 
battle with the giant beasts of nature. Nevertheless, 
the desire is in me, and I seem unable to keep it down 
all the time. But being a poor man who cannot afford 
to go on great hunting trips, and moreover, having no 
secret service men tagging me around to take care of 
me in case my nerve 
should give out or my 
muscles fail me at a crit¬ 
ical moment, I am obliged 
to seek some other mode 
of satisfying my “wild” 
desires. I used to have a 
bull that was ample ma¬ 
terial and, whenever I 
felt that way, all I had 
to do was to take him out 
for a little exercise. But 
bulls will not last for¬ 
ever, and old Czar’s place 
is now filled by one that 
is so mild there is no 
more excitement in tak¬ 
ing him out for an airing 
than there would be in 
exercising a “Teddy 
bear.” Therefore, when I 
law the advertisement of 
30 unbroken range horses 
fresh from South Dakota 
to be sold at auction, I at 
once decided that here 
was the chance I was 
looking for. 
The horses were to be 
sold at a town about 20 
miles away, and taking a 
good husky young fellow 
with me, we started for 
the scene of action. We 
found the horses turned 
out to pasture about a 
mile from the town, and 
had no difficulty in get¬ 
ting quite near them. We looked them over carefully, 
hut, of course, were unable to touch one. We trotted 
them around, noting their gaits, and finally selected the 
ones we thought might develop into good horses. 
Some were very good ones, but “paddled” with their 
front feet when trotting. That is, they swing their 
feet sideways instead of throwing them boldly ahead 
with a good knee motion. It makes me tired to sit 
behind a horse and watch him “paddle” along. So 
these were marked as good ones to let alone. After 
dinner the hoi'Ses were brought down to the stock 
yards to be sold. Three men on saddle ponies went 
after them, and it was a stirring sight to see them 
come through the town—a saddle pony ahead, and the 
whole herd on a dead run after him. The rider led 
them straight into the cattle pen; then forcing his 
pony through the throng of snorting horses, he rode 
quickly out and the gates were closed. The auction¬ 
eer took his stand on a high platform in the corner of 
an adjoining yard. The connecting gate was opened 
and three of the wild things were driven through. You 
could take your choice—get in the pen and look them 
over as much as you liked, or peek through the cracks 
of the fence. Being out to do “strenuous” things and 
work off that “wild” feeling, I got into the pen with 
several others, and the bidding commenced. 
A splendid gray was in this first bunch, but he was 
quickly run up to $ 1 GO, and I do not like gray horses, 
so I let him go to the other fellow. Pretty soon one 
of a pair of beautiful cherry bay mares came rushing 
through when the gate was opened. She was not quite 
so big as I would like, but she had splendid feet and 
limbs, and seemed to be a perfect bunch of bone and 
muscle. No one could tell how old they were, for 
it was as impossible to look in their mouths as if they 
were tigers. I got this mare at $146, probably be¬ 
cause she was somewhat lacking in size (she weighs 
1,060 pounds. After about half an hour the mate to 
iny mare was driven in with a big-footed rather coarse 
mare covered with a coat of coarse light red hair; a 
"serviceable” looking animal, but far from a nice one. 
“What am I offered for the choice of these mares?” 
bellowed the auctioneer, and the bidding commenced. 
We "run them up" to $160 when it occurred to me that 
the other man might be bidding on the light bay. So 
I slid quietly around and asked him. Of course he 
was. He wanted her to go with his gray. It is need¬ 
less to say that I let him have her. Then the bidding 
began again on the cherry bay. I got her, but the price 
was $161; too much to pay for a wild horse when you 
don’t even know how old she is. All the horses were 
quickly sold, the prices ranging from $161 to about 
$50 for the poorest. 
“Now, gentlemen, settle at the office, get your orders 
for your horses, and we are ready to halter them for 
you,” announced the auctioneer. There w r as a rush 
for the office, and soon the men began to appear with 
all kinds of ropes and trappings for catching their 
horses, according to their ideas of horse taming. One 
fellow showed up with a window cord, and another 
with a saddle and bridle. Horses were caught for the 
men who had good strong halters and about 40 feet 
of strong rope; the others were sent back for suitable 
fixtures. To catch the horses, they were driven into 
a corner, when a heavy gate was swung around 
against them, and being held by several men, was fas¬ 
tened tight, wedging the horse fast in the corner. 
Then the halter was put on and the rope run through 
the halter ring and tied around the neck, for no halter 
alone could hold one of these maddened, frightened, 
plunging horses. "Then the gate was removed and 
the horse rushed out. The rope was snubbed, to a 
post and the battle was on. “Don’t tie your horse, for 
he may break his neck,” called the head man. Some 
took his advice, and some took the chances. One 
man insisted upon taking a hitch around his horse’s 
jaw before he was released, and then he tied the mad¬ 
dened thing to a post. The battle was terrific; soon 
the blood was running 
from the mouth and nos¬ 
trils of the poor thing as 
he plunged and reared. 
Somebody ran for the po¬ 
lice, but others warned 
the owner and the horse 
was released. This fellow 
did not fight fair; he was 
like the man who hunts 
deer with a torch, or dy¬ 
namites the trout brook. 
The rain began to fall 
in torrents and this put a 
stop to the horse catching 
for that day. We took 
a train for home, and 
when I arrived, I was ob¬ 
liged to confess to the 
“better half” that I had 
paid $.307 for a pair of 
horses that I didn’t even 
know the age of. This 
was Saturday, so I had 
until Monday to reflect 
on the deal, and I must 
confess that by Monday 
morning a considerable 
amount of that “wild” 
feeling had worked off, 
and I would just as soon 
have gone to plowing 
with big fat Dolly. But 
the horses were waiting 
for us, and we had to go 
after them. We went 
through the regulation 
process of catching. The 
little one soon submitted to the rope and halter, hut 
the big one was a tiger. She reared and plunged’and, 
at one time, I thought that all I should get for my 
$160 would be a badly battered horse hide. I found 
that it would be utter folly to attempt to lead one of 
them single handed, so I hired two more men and 
with two men on a rope, we started for home. I took 
the bigger mare, but I had an active willing young fel¬ 
low to help me. For the first mile we had all we could 
do, and sometimes had to resort to “snubbing” to a 
post or tree. This was a dangerous process, and must 
be done with dexterity or the mare’s neck would be 
broken. We proceeded this way for 12 miles, when I 
sent the two men back and Jerry and I finished the 
trip alone. 
It was after dark when we got home, and I can re¬ 
member but one other occasion when the place looked 
so inviting. The boys and a couple of neighbors were 
waiting for us, and the work of stabling our horsei 
began. Of course they had never been in a barn, and 
J. GRANT MORSE AND TWO OF HIS JERSEY HEIFERS. Fig. 404. 
