The evening times. [volume] (Grand Forks, N.D.) 1906-1914, 1906-03-01
A Piebald's Pluck,
From the Chicago Evening Post.

From the Chicago Evening Post.
In horse life one of two social levels
awaits-thoroughbred or piebald. The
difference between them and the social
scales of men is little-just the shut
tie and cock between being quad
ruped and a biped. A piebald is a
mongrel. His mother may have stray
ed from the Saskatchewan and his
father may have come north from the
Pecos, but he is mongrel. Still, a
mongrel may have points of honor that
q thoroughbred never dreamed of.
For instance. Waddell in the last
stretch of one Derby and Sidney Lucas
in another. Some piebalds make
splendid polo horses. There's a point
IN that game where the honor of the
horse is at stake. But the particular
mongrel am writing about never got
into polo game. His battle was
fiercer.
He was owned by the government,
and his number was 1863. On that
number he got his legal right to fod-
der and water. Rice rode him, and
Rfce's work as government land in
spector lay between the Oregon Noun
tains, in New Mexico, and the Sacra-
mento. Between the two ranges are
gypsum beds, blistering white. Four
hundred years ago pueblo OF at least
ten thousand persons stood on the
beds, but an earthquake one morning
closed the river and the people van
ished. The ruins of their homes still
stand. Rice was not loved in that
country. Riding the piebald in the
discharge of his duty, he had called
tor many observations of the law that
to the untutored mind seemed out of
l,ace-uncalled for. Rice did not
know that he was making enemies
He simply drifted along, drawing his
salary and obeying his oath of office.
He was foe to no man and friend to
all who did not ask him to break that
oath. His wife and children were at
Las Cruces. Perhaps twice a month
he could be with them. He had been
horn in Monroe, Wis. His father was
from Wilbraham, Mass. Some ten
years of his life he had given to en-
forcing the law in the southwest.
Rice thought a law was a law. AS an
officer he believed that it was his duty
to enforce it.
The piebald had been Rice's COM
ramon for three years. They had
crossed the gypsum beds many a bit
ter time without food OF water. The
mongrel never faltered. The man
many time swayed in the saddle, but
hung to the horn. The piebald
brought him safely through to the
ranches under "Old Baby" in the Or
gan Mountains, where water and food
were plenty. One afternoon, coming
cut of the gypsum beds, up the eastern
slope of the Organ Range to the San
Augustin trail, Rice was shot from
ambush three times and the piebald
twice hit in flesh wounds Rice was
mortally wounded, but had strength
enough left to desire to reach the wife
and children before he gave up He
was seventy miles from them, and
mountain trail to cover, but he bound
up his wounds as best he could and
gave the Diebald his head.
Taking his own way over the range,
the brute turned in at Patterns ranch
and whinnied at the stone front. Cap
tain Patten came out with the ancient
Mex" woman who cares for his
kitchen, and found Rice unconscious.
He did all he could for him, and load
ing him back into the saddle, with a
strap over his knees, followed the pie
Laid horse to Las Cruces, fourteen
miles away. and $500 feet lower than
his own mountain elevation. A pie
bald is mongrel, but this mongrel
lever failed. He was five hours max
ing the descent of the mountain slope
with the limp body on his back, but he
Cid not falter. He stopped when, aft.
er passing the cathedral of the town
and the group of 'dobes, he came to
the little yard that fronted Rice's
home and where a great cactus rose.
There he gave his call, and the mother
and children came down the walk, and,
with Patten. brought Rice into his own