The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1908-12-25
THE CAPTAINS
GRAY
By ELLA F. MOSBY
Copyright. by shortstory Pub. Coz

picketed, broke loose, and in the I'M
certain light of the camp-fires again
engaged in a fierce struggle. Scream
ing, biting, charging with desperate
courage, they renewed the conflict
of the day, not allowing themselves
to be separated until more than half
their number lay dead or disabled on
the field. Whether this be true or
not, certain it is that the more intel
lgent cavalry horses learn to love
the wild excitement and thrill of war,
and even imbibe somewhat of the es-
prit de corps of their owners. My
own mare-beautiful and spirited
creature-I have often seen tingle
from head to foot at the first bugle-
note of ''Boots and Saddles" 1t
would have taken a strong hand to
hold her back.
My story, however, is not of her,
but of our captains gray, powerful
and fiery horse, the finest in our regl-
ment for speed, bottom, brain and
pluck. Despite an imperturbably
grave air, he was continually playing
tricks, especially on the other horses.
When his master threw himself
down on the ground to rest, his
horse would lie down beside him,
either lovingly, and lightly, laying
his head on the captains breast to
be patted, or else searching his pock-
cts for bits of bread and sugar, and
if these were not forthcoming, steal
ing his masters handkerchief and
pretending to hide it.
The captain was reserved and
apparently a lonely man. His horse
was, in fact, his only intimate
friend, and when in the second year
of the war the captain was killed
shot dead in his saddle while return
ing from a accommodating expedition
his gray followed him to the grave.
l succeeded as captain, and some
how it seemed natural that [ should
take care of the horse, though |
never rode him. He went with his
old company, however, just the same.
If he were fastened anywhere when
we were called to mount, he made
such an awful row that [ couldn't
stand it. / ended by letting him go
loose Just as his master had done;
he always came instantly at certain
whistle, and was perfectly obedient
SO long as you did not try to send
him back. At every drill, on every
march, he kept his old place, or as
near it as possible. One night we
were going through tangled bit of
timber, hardly daring to breathe,
much less speak, when the gray
threw up his head with loud snort.
) At once the whole wood was alive
before us with men firing on every
side. In another moment we should
have been surrounded and retreat
impossible. As it was, we barely cut
our way out, the gray literally fight
ing by my side. A ghostly sort of
fight it was; the new moon just up,
and in the glimmering light every
thing shadowy and confused, friends
and foes, horses and riders.
''By God, the last captain did us a
good turn!" exclaimed one of the
men when we were fairly beyond
shot.
''The last captain! What DO you
mean?" I asked.
'Beg pardon, nothing sir. Only"
hesitating, ''twas the captains gray
give that cry; we'd been in, head
foremost, but for that"
After that I had curious feeling
all through the action that, if / only
turned quickly enough, I should see
a shadowy rider upon the shadowy
gray, though, as for the matter of
that, we were all shadows in the
dusky, half-lit wood.
On Sunday morning-the third
since the captains death-the great
battle began. | am not naturally
soldier, feeling always an instructive
shrinking from the hideous details
of war, the screaming shell, the sharp
steel, the tramping down of the
horses on human flesh. / had an OPP
portunity to realize all these horrors
as our cavalry, held in reserve, wait
ed five mortal hours-no food, no
water, no rest, for me at least, for
my nerves were strung to the highest
pitch by the continuous roar and
rattle of cannon and musketry, the
rumble of heavy wagons, confused
cries and groans, all the hellish
sounds of conflict. The smoke hung
thick over the field, the air was
sitting with the smell Of gunpowder,
as at a thunder storm in cheap the