Fox hunting; Horses; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Personal narratives
And then, his English failing him, he fell, through an attempt at
French, into German, in which his tongue was far more ready than my
ear. Still it was easy to gather enough to understand some of the
processes by which the animal's natural qualifications for his work had
been developed into such unusual accomplishments; and then he glided
into the complimentary assertion that no one but the colonel of his
regiment could ever have hoped to buy him at any price,--and of course
he did not consider it a sale. His original outlay, which he could
not afford to lose, had been reimbursed; but the true value of the
horse, his education, he was only too glad to give me. And then, the
pleasure of seeing his colonel suitably mounted, and the satisfaction
of seeing the horse properly ridden, really threw the obligation on
his side. Then, with his inimitable _naïveté_, he not only expressed,
but demonstrated, in every look and gesture, more delight in watching
our movements than he had felt in his own riding. "Praise a horseman
for his horsemanship, and he will ride to the Devil." Gluckmansklegge
(I did not suspect him of a desire for promotion) pointed to a strong
rail-fence near by, and suggested that the combination of man and
horse for that sort of thing was unusual. Whether it was a banter or
a compliment, it would have been impossible for any man who properly
esteemed himself and his riding to stop to consider. Turned toward the
fence, the Fuchs, checking his speed, seemed to creep toward it, as a
cat would, making it very uncertain what he proposed; but as he came
nearer to it, that willingness to leap that an accustomed rider will
always recognize communicated itself to me, and, with perfect judgment,
but with a force and spirit I had never hoped to meet in a horse of
this world, he carried me over the enormous height, and landed like a
deer, among the stumps and brush on the other side, and trotted gayly
away, athlete-like again, happier and prouder than ever horse was
before.
Sitting that evening at my tent door, opposite the spring, bragging,
as the custom is, over the new purchase, it occurred to me that that
stream of water and that bit of horse-flesh had some qualities alike;
so I christened the latter "Roubie d'Eaux," which was soon translated
and shortened to "Ruby,"--a name henceforth familiar throughout the
regiment.
To become my property was the only thing needed to make him perfect,
for Ike was born in a racing stud in Kentucky, and had practised all
the arts of the craft, up to the time when, being both jockey and "the
stakes" in a race he rode, he was lost to a Missouri gentleman of
fortune, and became a body-servant. He was once confidential:--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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