CHAPTER VI
PONIES
Next morning the Captain decided that he had various affairs to attendto, so we put on our riding clothes and went down to the stables.
The Captain had always forty or fifty polo ponies in the course ofeducation, and he was delighted to have them ridden, once he wasconvinced of your seat and hands. They were beautiful ponies, generallyiron gray in colour, very friendly, very eager, and very lively. Ridingthem was like flying through the air, for they sailed over rough ground,irrigation checks, and the like without a break in their stride, andwithout a jar. By the same token it was necessary to ride them. At oddmoments they were quite likely to give a wide sidewise bound or astiff-legged buck from sheer joy of life. One got genuine "horseexercise" out of them.
The Captain, as perhaps I have said, invented these ponies himself. FromChihuahua he brought in some of the best mustang mares he could find;and, in case you have Frederick Remington's pictures of starvedwinter-range animals in mind, let me tell you a good mustang is a veryhandsome animal indeed. These he bred to a thoroughbred. The resultinghalf-breeds grew to the proper age. Then he started to have them brokento the saddle. A start was as far as he ever got, for nobody could ridethem. They combined the intelligence and vice of the mustang with theendurance and nervous instability of the thoroughbred. The Captain triedall sorts of men, even sending at last to Arizona for a good broncobuster on the J-I. Only one or two of the many could back the animals atall, though many aspirants made a try at it. After a long series ofexperiments, the Captain came to the reluctant conclusion that the crosswas no good. It seemed a pity, for they were beautiful animals, up tofull polo size, deep chested, strong shouldered, close coupled, andspeedy.
Then, by way of idleness, he bred some of the half-bred mares. Thethree-quarter cross proved to be ideal. They were gentle, easily broken,and to the eye differed in no particular from their pure-bloodedbrothers. So, ever since, the Captain has been raising these mostexcellent polo ponies to his great honour and profit and the incidentalpleasure of his friends who like riding.
One of these ponies was known as the Merry Jest. He had a terrifying butharmless trick. The moment the saddle was cinched, down went his headand he began to buck in the most vicious style. This he would keep upuntil further orders. In order to put an end to the performance all onehad to do was to haul in on the rope, thrust one's foot in the stirrup,and clamber aboard. For, mark you this, Merry Jest in the course of along and useful life never failed to buck under the empty saddle--and_never_ bucked under a rider!
This, of course, constituted the Merry Jest. Its beauty was that it wasso safe.
"Want to ride?" asked the Captain.
"Surely," replied the unsuspecting stranger.
The Merry Jest was saddled, brought forth, and exhibited in action.
"There's your horse," remarked the Captain in a matter-of-course tone.
We rode out the corral gate and directly into the open country. Theanimals chafed to be away; and when we loosened the reins, leapedforward in long bounds. Over the rough country they skimmed likeswallows, their hoofs hardly seeming to touch the ground, the powerfulmuscles playing smoothly beneath us like engines. After a mile of thiswe pulled up, and set about the serious business of the day.
One after another we oversaw all the major activities of such a ranch;outside, I mean, of the ranch enclosure proper where were the fowls, thevegetable gardens, and the like. Here an immense hay rick was beingdriven slowly along while two men pitched off the hay to right and left.After it followed a long line of cattle. This manner of feeding obviatedthe crowding that would have taken place had the hay not been thusscattered. The more aggressive followed close after the rick, snatchingmouthfuls of the hay as it fell. The more peaceful, or subdued, orphilosophical strung out in a long, thin line, eating steadily at onespot. They got more hay with less trouble, but the other fellows had tomaintain reputations for letting nobody get ahead of _them_!
At another point an exceedingly rackety engine ran a hay press, wherethe constituents of one of the enormous house-like haystacks were fedinto a hopper and came out neatly baled. A dozen or so men oversaw theactivities of this noisy and dusty machine.
Down by the northerly cottonwoods two miles away we found other men withscrapers throwing up the irrigation checks along the predeterminedcontour lines. By means of these irregular meandering earthworks thewater, admitted from the ditch to the upper end of the field, would workits way slowly from level to level instead of running off or makingchannels for itself. This job, too, was a dusty one. We could see thesmoke of it rising from a long distance; and the horses and men werebrown with it.
And again we rode softly for miles over greensward through the cattle,at a gentle fox trot, so as not to disturb them. At several points stoodgreat blue herons, like sentinels, decorative as a Japanese screen,absolutely motionless. The Captain explained that they were "fishing"for gophers; and blessed them deeply. Sometimes our mounts splashed fora long distance through water five or six inches shallow. Underneath thesurface we could see the short green grass of the turf that thusreceived its refreshment. Then somewhere near, silhouetted against thesky or distant mountains, on the slight elevation of the irrigationditch bank, we were sure to see some of the irrigation Chinamen. Theywere strange, exotic figures, their skins sunburned and dark, theirqueues wound around their heads; wearing always the same uniform of bluejeans cut China-fashion, rubber boots, and the wide, inverted bowlChinese sun hat of straw. By means of shovels wherewith to dig, and ironbars wherewith to raise and lower flood gates, they controlled theartificial rainfall of the region. So accustomed did the ducks becometo these amphibious people that they hardly troubled themselves to getout of the way, and were utterly careless of how near they flew. UncleJim once disguised himself as an irrigation Chinaman and got all kindsof shooting--until the ducks found him out. Now they seem able todistinguish accurately between a Chinaman with a long shovel and a whiteman with a shotgun, no matter how the latter is dressed. Ducks, tame andwild, have a lot of sense. It must bore the former to be forced toassociate with chickens.
Over in the orchard, of a thousand acres or so, were many moreOrientals, and hundreds of wild doves. These Chinese were all of thelower coolie orders, and primitive, not to say drastic in their medicalideas. One evening the Captain heard a fine caterwauling and drumbeating over in the quarters, and sallied forth to investigate. In oneof the huts he found four men sitting on the outspread legs and arms ofa fifth. The latter had been stripped stark naked. A sixth was engagedin placing live coals on the patient's belly, while assorted assistantsfurnished appropriate music and lamentation. The Captain put a stop tothe proceedings and bundled the victim to a hospital where he promptlydied. It was considered among Chinese circles that the Captain hadkilled him by ill-timed interference!
Everywhere we went, and wherever a small clump of trees or even largebrush offered space, hung the carcasses of coyotes, wildcats, and lynx.Some were quite new, while others had completely mummified in the dryair of these interior plains. These were the trophies of theprofessional "varmint killer," a man hired by the month. Of course itwould be only too easy for such an official to loaf on his job, so thisone had adopted the unique method of proving his activity. Everywherethe Captain rode he could see that his man had been busy.
All this time we had been working steadily away from the ranch. Longzigzags and side trips carried us little forward, and a constantleftward tendency swung us always around, until we had completed a halfcircle of which the ranch itself was the centre. The irrigated fieldshad given place to open country of a semi-desert character grown highwith patches of greasewood, sagebrush, thorn-bush; with wide patches ofscattered bunch grass; and stretches of alkali waste. Here, unexpectedlyto me, we stumbled on a strange but necessary industry incidental to solarge an estate. Our nostrils were assailed by a mighty stink. We camearound the corner of some high brush directly on a small two-storyaffair with a factory smokestack. It was fenced i
n, and the fence wascovered with drying hides. I will spare you details, but the function ofthe place was to make glue, soap, and the like of those cattle whoseterm of life was marked by misfortune rather than by the butcher'sknife. The sole workman at this economical and useful occupation did notseem to mind it. The Captain claimed he was as good as a buzzard atlocating the newly demised.
Our ponies did not like the place either. They snorted violently, andpricked their ears back and forth, and were especially relieved andeager to obey when we turned their heads away.
We rode on out into the desert, our ponies skipping expertly throughthe low brush and gingerly over the alkali crust of the open spacesbeneath which might be holes. Jackrabbits by the thousand, literally,hopped away in front of us, spreading in all directions as along thesticks of a fan. They were not particularly afraid, so they loped easilyin high-bounding leaps, their ears erect. Many of them sat bolt upright,looking at least two feet high. Occasionally we managed really to scareone, and then it was a grand sight to see him open the throttle and scudaway, his ears flat back, in the classical and correct attitude of theconstantly recurring phrase of the ancients: "belly to earth he flew!"
Jackrabbits are a great nuisance. The Captain had to enclose hisprecious alfalfa fields with rabbit-proof wire to prevent utterdestruction. There was a good deal of fence, naturally, and occasionallythe inquiring rabbit would find a hole and crawl through. Then he was inalfalfa, which is, as every Californian knows, much better than being inclover. He ate at first greedily, then more daintily, wandering alwaysfarther afield in search of dessert. Never, however, did he forget theprecise location of the opening by which he had entered, as was wise ofhim. For now, behold, enter the dogs. Ordinarily these dogs, who werealso wise beasts, passed by the jackrabbit in his abundance with onlyinhibited longing. Their experience had taught them that to chasejackrabbits in the open with any motive ulterior to that of healthfulexercise and the joy of seeing the blame things run was as vain and aspuppish as chasing one's tail. But in the alfalfa fields was a chance,for it must be remembered that such fields were surrounded by therabbit-proof wire in which but a single opening was known to the jack inquestion. Therefore, with huge delight, the dogs gave chase. Mr. Rabbitbolted back for his opening, his enemies fairly at his heels. Now comesthe curious part of the episode. The dogs knew perfectly well that ifthe rabbit hit the hole in the fence he was safe for all of them; andthey had learned, further, that if the rabbit missed his plunge forsafety he would collide strongly with that tight-strung wire. Whenwithin twenty feet or so of the fence they stopped short in expectation.Probably three times out of five the game made his plunge in safety andscudded away over the open plain outside. Then the dogs turned andtrotted philosophically back to the ranch. But the other two times therabbit would miss. At full speed he would hit the tight-strung mesh,only to be hurled back by its resiliency fairly into the jaws of hiswaiting pursuers. Though thousands may consider this anothernature-fake, I shall always have the comfort of thinking that theCaptain and the dogs know it for the truth.
At times jackrabbits get some sort of a plague and die in great numbers.Indeed some years at the ranch they seemed almost to have disappeared.Their carcasses are destroyed almost immediately by the carrioncreatures, and their delicate bones, scattered by the ravens, buzzards,and coyotes, soon disintegrate and pass into the soil. One does not findmany evidences of the destruction that has been at work; yet he will seetens instead of myriads. I have been at the ranch when one was never outof sight of jackrabbits, in droves, and again I have been there whenone would not see a half dozen in a morning's ride. They recover theirnumbers fast enough, and the chances are that this "narrow-gauge mule"will be always with us. The ranchman would like nothing better than tobid him a last fond but genuine farewell; but I should certainly misshim.
The greasewood and thorn-bush grew in long, narrow patches. The ragweedgrew everywhere it pleased, affording grand cover for the quail. Thesagebrush occurred singly at spaced intervals, with tiny bare spacesbetween across which the plumed little rascals scurried hurriedly. Thetumbleweed banked high wherever, in the mysterious dispensations ofProvidence, a call for tumbleweed had made itself heard.
The tumbleweed is a curious vegetable. It grows and flourishes amain,and becomes great even as a sagebrush, and puts forth its blossoms andseeds, and finally turns brown and brittle. Just about as you wouldconclude it has reached a respectable old age and should settle down byits chimney corner, it decides to go travelling. The first breath ofwind that comes along snaps it off close to the ground. The next turnsit over. And then, inasmuch as the tumbleweed is roughly globular inshape, some three or four feet in diameter, and exceedingly light instructure, over and over it rolls across the plain! If the wind happensto increase, the whole flock migrates, bounding merrily along at a goodrate of speed. Nothing more terrifying to the unaccustomed equine can beimagined than thirty or forty of these formidable-looking monsterscharging down upon him, bouncing several feet from the surface of theearth. The experienced horse treats them with the contempt suchlight-minded senility deserves, and wades through their phantom attackindifferent. After the breeze has died the debauched old tumbleweeds areeverywhere to be seen, piled up against brush, choking the ditches,filling the roads. Their beautiful spherical shapes have been frayed outso that they look sodden and weary and done up. But their seeds havebeen scattered abroad over the land.
Wherever we found water, there we found ducks. The irrigating ditchescontained many bands of a dozen or fifteen; the overflow ponds had eachits little flock. The sky, too, was rarely empty of them; and the criesof the snow geese and the calls of sandhill cranes were rarely still. Iremarked on this abundance.
"Ducks!" replied the Captain, wonderingly. "Why, you haven't _begun_ tosee ducks! Come with me."
Thereupon we turned sharp to the left. After ten minutes I made out froma slight rise above the plain a black patch lying across the distance.It seemed to cover a hundred acres or so, and to represent a sort ofgrowth we had not before encountered.
"That," said the Captain, indicating, "is a pond covered with ducks."
I did not believe it. We dropped below the line of sight and rodesteadily forward.
All at once a mighty roar burst on our ears, like the rush of a heavytrain over a high trestle; and immediately the air ahead of us wasfilled with ducks towering. They mounted, and wheeled, and circled backor darted away. The sky became fairly obscured with them in the sensethat it seemed inconceivable that hither space could contain anotherbird. Before the retina of the eye they swarmed exactly as a nearercloud of mosquitoes would appear.
Hardly had the shock of this first stupendous rise of wildfowl spentitself before another and larger flight roared up. It seemed that allthe ducks in the world must be a-wing; and yet, even after that, a thirdbody arose, its rush sounding like the abrupt, overwhelming noise of acataract in a sudden shift of wind. I should be afraid to guess how manyducks had been on that lake. Its surface was literally covered, so thatnowhere did a glint of water show. I suppose it would be a simple matterto compute within a few thousand how many ducks would occupy so muchspace; but of what avail? Mere numbers would convey no impression of theeffect. Rather fill the cup of heaven with myriads thick as a swarm ofgnats against the sun. They swung and circled back and forth beforemaking up their minds to be off, crossing and recrossing the variouslines of flight. The first thrice-repeated roar of rising had givenplace to the clear, sustained whistling of wings, low, penetrating,inspiring. In the last flight had been a band of several hundred snowgeese; and against the whiteness of their plumage the sun shone.
"That," observed the Captain with conviction, "is what you might callducks."
By now it was the middle of the afternoon. We had not thought of lunch.At the ranch lunch was either a major or a minor consideration; therewas no middle ground. If possible, we ate largely of many most deliciousthings. If, on the other hand, we happened to be out somewhere at noon,we cheerfully omitted lunc
h. So, when we returned to the ranch, theCaptain, after glancing at his watch and remarking that it was ratherlate to eat, proposed that we try out two other ponies with the polomallets.
This we proceeded to do. After an hour's pleasant exercise on the flatin the "Enclosure," we jogged contentedly back into the corral.
Around the corner of the barn sailed a distracted and utterly stampededhen. After her, yapping eagerly, came five dachshunds.
Pause and consider the various elements of outrage the situationpresented. (A) Dachshunds are, as before quoted, a bunch of useless,bandylegged, snip-nosed, waggle-eared----, anyway, and represent anamiable good-natured weakness on the part of Mrs. Kitty. (B) Dachshundsin general are _not_ supposed to run wild all over the place, but toremain in their perfectly good, sufficiently large, entirely comfortablecorral, Pete and Pup excepted. (C) Chickens are valuable. (D) Confound'em! This sort of a performance will be a bad example for Young Ben.First thing we'll know, he'll be chasing chickens, too!
The Captain dropped from his pony and joined the procession. The hencould run just a trifle faster than the dachshunds; and the dachshundsjust a trifle faster than the Captain. I always claimed they circled thebarn three times, in the order named. The Captain insists with dignitythat I exaggerate three hundred per cent. At any rate, the hen finallyblundered, the dachshunds fell upon her--and the Captain swung his polomallet.
Five typical "sickening thuds" were heard; five dachshunds literallysailed through the air to fall in quivering heaps. The Captain, hisanger cooled, came back, shaking his head.
"I wouldn't have killed those dogs for anything in the world!" hemuttered half to me, half to himself as we took the path to the house."I don't know what Mrs. Kitty will say to this! I certainly am sorryabout it!" and so on, at length.
We turned the corner of the hedge. There in a row on the top step of theverandah sat five dachshunds, their mouths open in a happy smile, sixinches of pink tongue hanging, their eyes half closed in good-humouredappreciation.
The Captain approached softly and looked them over with great care. Hefelt of their ribs. He stared up at me incredulously.
"Is this the same outfit?" he whispered.
"It is," said I, "I know the blaze-face brute."
"But--but----"
"They played 'possum on you, Captain."
The Captain arose and his wrath exploded.
"You miserable hounds!" he roared.
With a wise premonition they decamped.
"I'm going to clean out the whole bandylegged tribe!" threatened theCaptain for the fiftieth time in the month. "I won't have them on theranch!"
That was seven years ago. They are still there--they and numerousdescendants.[G]
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