"'If any of the rest of you bums thinks he's boss around here, start something, and I will sink this into his head.' Although I was quailing underneath, still I got away with it, and from that time on I was boss of my section. "Every man was smoking or chewing tobacco. Pretty soon the hold became thick with smoke, and I was gasping for breath, when the voice of the foreman came down the companionway: "'Turn out on deck and give a hand loading the horses. Look alive or I'll come down there and rouse you out pretty ---- ---- quick.' "We needed no second invitation and lined up on the deck. I looked over the rail. On the dock were hundreds of the sorriest looking specimens of horse-flesh I ever laid eyes on. These horses were in groups of ten or twelve, being held by horsemen from the New Jersey Stockyards. A lot of the men who had shipped as horsemen had never led a horse in their lives, and it was pitiful to see their fear. "The foreman let out a volley of oaths for them to move quickly, and they decided to accept the lesser evil and take a chance with the horses. "Then the work of loading commenced. "I have been in a Cavalry Regiment when hurry-up orders were received to entrain for the Mexican Border and helped to load eleven hundred horses on trains. But the confusion on that dock was indescribable. The horses were loaded by three runways. My gang was detailed on the after one. The foreman was leaning over the rail, glaring down upon us and now and then giving instructions mixed with horrible oaths. He had a huge marlin spike in his hand. On the dock was the second foreman, in his large sombrero, a red handkerchief around his neck, wearing a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and carrying in his right hand a coiled lariat. It did one's heart good to see him rope the horses which broke loose. Watching his first performance, I knew I had been right in thinking he had Mexican blood in his veins. "A bleary-eyed drunk was trying to lead a horse by the halter up our run. He was looking back at the horse, at the same time tugging and jerking on the halter. You could see the white in the horse's eyes, and I knew right away, from my experience with horses, that this was a bad one, an "outlaw," as we would term him in the Cavalry. The drunk was cursing and swearing and kicking up at the horse's head. The foreman saw this and directed his barrage at the offender. "'How in h---- do you expect to lead a horse while you're looking at him? Turn your back to him, you lousy bum. You are blocking the whole run. Turn your back to him, I say. You can't lead him thataway. If I come down there, I'll soon show you how to get him aboard.'