Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1905-12-02
The Winning of 'sWhitesoot. -
BY j. j. DOUGLAS.

Many years ago Sir Walter Raleighs men
brought English horses to the Island of
Roanoke in eastern North Carolina. Sew
erai Of these horses escaped and began to
live in a wild state. Slowly but steadily
they degenerated into small active. wiry
ponies. Today they frequent in great num-
bers the salt marshes along the coast They
are known Familiarity bankers or
marsh ponies" Exceedingly hardy and
easily kept they form important indus
try I'm the east and annual "pony-pen-
nings'' are held for the purpose of sale
and swapping. This is an interesting time
to the boys who live on the banks and
is eagerly awaited from year to year. 1t is
the ambition of every youth to own at least
one nosy. No Indian or Arabian ever sat
more sture by his steed.
Chara&;s Rane. poor fisherman's son,
lived on the banks" The fsherman's
earnings were scant and uncertain. owing
to his fondness for drink. His wife and
children We're frequently forced to go hum
cry In fact. the father had pawned ev-
erything in the hut that could he dispensed
with Charles ambition, therefore. to own
pony OF his own seemed hopeless. Many
times he had eagerly watched the wild
herds. If he could only capture of
the shaggy little creatures! But what could
fourteen-year-old boy do with lasso?
his desire for pony was Intensified on.
morning when neighbours son, Amos
Blake, sixteen years old led a sprightly bay
pony, which he had bought at the pen
ming. directly by the drunken fisherman
door
They are grand. Charlie: you ought to
have one" exclaimed Amos, rubbing the
| little bays nUse. I'm going to break this
young fellow and ride him along the beach
in search of driftwood. treasures from
wrecks and things
He proudly led the pony off leaving poor
Charlie sad and sick at heart
Pa, why can't | have n marsh DOnY -
he ventured, as he entered the hut where
his parents were seated at breakfast. 1t
was bold stroke for the lad.
"A marsh pony?' the fisherman echoed
y GU can have dozen so far I'm con-
cerned. They are free as birds. Catch
yourself one" The mother looked panied
and the smaller children We're frightened
Yes, catch yourself one he ran on.
4Gnder Is herd, down by the inlet" He
pointed through the broken window to
where, deep In the marsh-reeds and out
lined against the rolling green of the sea,
small herd of marsh ponies were feeding.
Take piece of sailing rope and learn to
lasso them"
Charlie turned from the room. He felt
that his heart would break. His sensitive
nature smarted beneath the cruel Jest. The
most cautious and careful herdsman could
scarcely approach near enough to the
marsh ponies TO throw Il lasso over their
heads. The dry grass would rattle; the
salt pools would splash; the very air,
though strong with sea smells. seldom fail!
ed 10 convey the man smell to the shaggy
little horses. whose heads flew up ike magic
and whose bright. black eyes seemed to
see everywhere, far and near.
Having nothing better, however, to engage
his time, Charlie walked slowly toward the
herd of ponies, creeping cautiously from
bog to beg. When he was within about
thirty yards the leader of the ponies raised
his head, snorted, paved the earth and
led the herd in sPIashng gal,op farther
up The beach. Charlie followed out of mere
curiosity. He had caught glimpse of two
or three pony colts in the herd 1t would
be fun to watch them at any rate.
Perhaps he could manage to catch one of
them, The idea seemed wild one, but
what boy does not have his dreams? Hur-
rying back 10 the hut, he obtained piece
of rope.
For something like an hour he followed
the trail OF the ponies. at times drawing
near enough to see that the most beautiful
of the colts had miik-white forefoot.
The trail led through the Big Salt
Marsh" Suddenly the leader of the ponies
srorted wildly wheeled and led the herd
away at furious gallop. For some reas son
the white-foot colt did not join the flight.
Wondering. the boy crept forward, and
peering cautiously through a fringe of
grass, behed sight which made him shiv-
er. The colt was fioundering in the mire.
On the bog a few yards distant crouched a
huge wildcat It's yellow eyes ablaze its
stumpy tail switching back and forth. The
cat was waiting for the moment when the
colt should become hopelessly entangled.
The boys first impulse was to fee and
give warning; but on second thought he
saw that help would come too late. Some
thing had to be done speedily. The cat
was fast flashing itself into fury The
boy sought his pocket and found match