Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1891-08-21
A LEGEND OF A HORSE.
TERRIBLE DEEDS OF THE WHITE
DEVIL, OF CALIFORNIA.

Avenging Steed-The Spirit of the Dead
Bandit Seemed to Inhabit the Fero-
cious Animal-His Death.
One day, as the freight train running
from San Francisco to San Jose rumbled
around IA sharp curve just outside of the
city of san Jose. a white horse sprang on
the track and raced down toward the town
in front of the engine. For a mile the
train did not gain on him. Then the un-
equal footing of the crosstses and the pace
began to tell on the white steed, and the
engine crept slowly up to him. The en-
gineer gave a few shrieks of the whistle to
scare the horse from the track, but he kept
right on in front, running with the speed
Of a racer, with his long tail streaming in
a straight line behind him.
The pilot struck him, ground the life out
of him in an instant and then plowed into
the dirt on the opposite side of the track.
The engineer swore a few choice oaths and
jumped out of the cab. The horse was as
dead as a doornail and the engine had left
the rails.
1t was Vasquez's horse. The whole
country knew it the next day. He was 90
years old and totally blind when he met
his death in front of the freight train, and
for ten years had roamed over the unoccu-
pied land about the lower part of Santa
Clara county, free as a bird and feared by
the MeXicans more than a lion. He was
called by them the "white devil" and it
was their belief that he was possessed of a
soul mortgaged to the evil one-the soul
of NasqueZ. 1t is a strange tale that the
old Mexican mothers tell of this white
horse.
Nasquez was the most noted bandit Of
California twenty years ago. He bid de
fiance to the law, eluded the detectives and
searching parties for years and killed and
robbed half a hundred men. He roamed
over the state Of California from the north
to the south, leaving desolation and death
in his wake. He surrounded himself with
a band of desperate MeXicans and terrorized
entire communities.
a RECEPTION By vAsQUEZ.
On a dreamy August afternoon in south
ern California the mayor of Los Angeles
and a fellow official were driving along the
old sand road through the Arroyo Seco to-
ward tire town, Over the brow of a hill
half a mile in front of them a group of
horsemen appeared at a gallop. They
swept down the hill and met the buggy of
the mayor. The galloping horses were
yanked back upon their launches, and a
swarthy Mexican upon a white horse
showed a pistol in the mayors face, and
said, with a show of his teeth in a smile,
Your money, senior"
The mayor thought it was a joke and
laughed.
Quick, quickr' said the horseman, as his
weapon clicked. 81 am Vasquez."
The mayor laughed again.
"Eef you don't belief me, senior, look"
Ha noinfpH hnpE tp hn hill arl tI,ara n "
peared another group of horsemen riding
at full tilt from the town.
'Quick," said Nasquez. 81 am no fool"
The mayor looked down the pistol barrel
at the pair of black, glittering eyes that
lined the sights and put up his hands. He
was lightened of his chamois bag of gold,
as was his friend, and the bold robbers
wheeled and were off at a run, the posse
from the town riding up five miuutes too
late to catch them or to save the mayors
coin. The band escaped into the chapar-
raj.
Vasquez made history in this way for
five years, and then was caught like a rat
in Il trap in an adobe house near the scene
of the robbery of the mayor, and was shot
down by a newspaper correspondent de-
tailed to accompany the search party He
survived his wounds, was taken to San
Jose, where one of his earliest and most
atrocious murders had been committed,
and there met his death on the scaffold.
The night after Nasquez was hanged a
white horse galloped up the street to the
jail, stood Il m at the door and gave
a neigh. The MeXicans heard in it a call
to the dead Nasquez. There came no an
Swer to the horses challenger and he
wheeled about and went as suddenly us he
came.
THE BANDIT HORSE.
Then he turned bandit and followed Vas
queZ's old trails. Once in awhile a man
would be found on the road with his body
frightfully mutilated and his flesh bearing
the marks of hoofs. Sometimes in the
night a white horse would appear at the
door of a Mexican cabin in some lonely
spot and neigh. If no answer came he
would be off like the wind, but if any man
dared show himself the horse would attack
him with hoof and teeth and it it was sell
dom that a victim escaped.
Time and again he was shot at, and one
Mexican buck was foolhardy enough to
try to rope him and met a horrible death.
The horse bore a charmed life. He became
almost AS great a terror to the Mexicans as
Nasquez had been to the rich Americans.
If by chance a Mexican pony got out of the
corral and wandered off in search of grass
the white horse would find him and enlist
him. First he had one follower, then two,
then half a dozen. No man could kill
them, and no man dared to attempt to
capture them. With no loads upon their
backs they were fleet as the wind and could
outstrip the best horse with a rider. The
Mexicans named the leader the white
Devil" and said that Vasquez lived again
in his horse.
As the years went by and Vasquez be-
came a memory, and his exploits the theme
for children's stories, the White Devil lost
his companions. His visits to the vicinity
of the little towns became less and less ire
quent and then ceased altogether. At long
intervals a Mexican would ride in with a
report that he had seen the White Devil in
some canyon among the hills. Even these
reports ceased, and few Americans of the
latter days in Cal fornia had heard of hin,
until the freight train had killed the white
horse. The MeXicans came for miles to
look at him. All of them knew him, at
least they said so, and they respected
him sufficiently to look at his lead body
frnu a distance San EranciSco Exapn.