Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1906-10-04


of mud chinked rocks and partly Of
wood. The roofs we're patched with
strips OF rusty tin held IN place by
stones.
Into one of these shanties, just tall
enough for Skipper to enter and no
more, the horse that had been the pride
Of the mounted park police was driven
with kick as greeting. Skipper
noted, first, that there was no feed box
and no hay rack Then he saw, or,
rather, felt--for the only light came
through cracks in the walls that there
was no floor. His nostrils told him
that the drainage was bad. Skipper
sighed as he thought of the clean,
sweet straw which Reddy used to
change in his stall every night.
But when you have lump on your
leg-a lump that throbs, throbs, throbs
with pain whether you stand still or
lie down-you do not think much on
other things.
Supper was late in coming to Skip
per that night. He was almost starved
when it was served. And such sup
per! What do you think? Hay? Yes,
but marsh hay; the dry, tasteless STUFF
they use for bedding in cheap stables.
A ton of it wouldn't make a pound of
good flesh. Oats? Not sign of an
oat! But with the hay there were a
few potato Feelings. Skipper nosed
them out and nibbled the marsh hay.
The rest he paved back under him, for
the whole had been thrown at his feet.
Then he dropped on the Ill smelling
ground and went to sleep to dream
that he had been turned into forty
acre field of clover, while dozen
brass bands played waltz and multi
tudes of people looked on and cheered.
In the morning more salt hay was
thrown to him and water was brought
in a dirty pail Then, without stroke
of brush or currycomb, he was led out.
When he saw the wagon to which he
was to be hitched Skipper hung his
head. He had reached the bottom. It
was implanted and rickety as to body
and frame, the wheels were minated
and dished, while the shafts were
spliced and wound with wire.
But worst of all was the string of
bells suspended from two uprights
above the seat. When Skipper saw
these he knew he had fallen low in
deed. He had become the horse of a
wandering junkman The next step in
his career, as he well knew, would be
the glue factory and the bone yard.
No. -, ~, :, !, c,r<, hoe isuo6 for fvuorfv
years or so it is sad enough to face
these things. But at eight years to see
the glue factory close at hand is enough
to make horse wish he had never
been foaled.
For many weary months Skipper
pulled that crazy cart, with Its hateful
jangIe of bells, about the city streets
and suburban roads while the man
with the faded hair roared through his
matted beard: Buy o-o-o-o-lt ra-a-a-a-gs!
Buy o-o-o-o-lt IA -a-a-a-ags! Oft bodies!
Olt copperl Oft iron! Waste baber!!'
The lump on Shippers hook kept
growing bigger and bigger. 1t seemed
as if the darts of pain shot from hoof
to flank with every STEP Big hollows
came over his eyes. You could see his
ribs as plainly as the hoops on pork
barrel. Yet six days in the week he
went on long trips and brought back
heavy loads of junk. On Sunday he
hauled the junkman and his family
about the city.
Once the junkman tried to drive
Skipper into one of the park entrances.
Then for the first time in his life Skip
per baked. The junkman pounded and
used such language as you might ex-
pect from junkman, but all to no use.
Skipper took the beating with lowered
head, but 60 through the gate he would
not. So the junkman gave it up, al
though he seemed very anxious to join
the line Of gay carriages which We're
rolling in.
Soon after this there came break in
the daily routine. One morning Skipper
was not led out as usual. In fact, no
one came near him, and he could hear
no voices in the nearby shanty. Skip
per decided that he would take day
off himself. BY backing against the
door he readily pushed it open, for the
staple was insecure.
Once at liberty, he climbed the road
way that led out OF the lot. 1t was late
in the fall, but there was still short,
sweet winter grass to be found along
the CUTTERS For awhile he nibbled at
this hungrily. Then queer idea came
to Skipper. Perhaps the passing Of a
smartly groomed saddle horse was re-
sponsible.
At any rate, Skipper left off nibbling
grass. He hobbled out to the edge of
the road, turned SO as to face the op-
posite side and held up his head. There
he stood just as be used to stand when
he was the pride of the mounted squad.
He was on post once more.
Few people were passing, and none
seemed to notice him, yet he was an
odd figure. His coat was shaggy and
weather stained 1t looked patched
and faded. The spawned hook caused
one hind quarter to sag somewhat, but
aside from that his nose was strictly