Authors: Walter Farley
The Horse Tamer (10 page)
Bill called to his brother for his rope throwing rig. He had no trouble putting it on the Mustang and drew it tightly over his back and around his tail.
Only when Bill tied up his forefoot did the Mustang make an attempt to break away. He hopped backward, trying to bite.
Bill let him go. He had the rope rig on and the slack taken up. He could throw the Mustang at will. He waited for him to stop hopping and noted again the wild look in the rolling eyes. All at once the horse came to a sudden stop. Before Bill could throw him he dropped down of his own accord and lay sullenly in the tanbark of the ring.
There was loud laughter from the crowd, and Bill knew only too well that he had to admit defeat. He could do nothing more here. Outdoors he would
have had a better chance. If he worked on the Mustang day after day, he might eventually win control. But even then he wasn’t sure. He doubted that the Mustang would ever be completely tamed. Luckily, there were few horses like him.
Suddenly the Mustang jumped to his feet and before Bill could pull him down again, the air was split by a furious onslaught of hoofs. Bill dropped to the ground and pulled the cord hard, upsetting the horse and toppling him over.
Then Bill got to his feet and without taking his eyes from the Mustang said, “Gentlemen, this horse cannot be broken before a class. No one in the world could do it in such a short time. Give me a week and I’ll drive him between shafts for you in this very ring. But he’ll never be truly safe on city streets.”
This had been his first failure before a class but he knew it wouldn’t be his last. There would be other Mustangs in the years to come.
From far back in the crowd some men were jeering him, and Bill’s face flamed with anger.
“If you’ve learned nothing else today,” he shouted, “I hope you at least understand that it’s wise to stop taming when either you or your horse becomes too excited.”
“You’re the one who’s excited, not the Mustang!” a man answered, laughing.
“I hope you’ll return with
average
cases,” Bill replied. He had nothing more to say. He waited for them to leave.
Suddenly he heard an old man’s voice which was familiar to him.
“Gentlemen, I’m afraid my friends and I have played a very bad trick on Professor Dailey,” Mr. Miller told the crowd as he got to his feet. “We have known for a long time that the Mustang is completely unmanageable unless the most brutal methods are used on him. We have been most impressed by the Professor’s attempts to handle him and I for one wish now to apologize and vote him a round of thanks for coming to our city. I have here the five hundred dollars that he paid for my worthless horse and will return it immediately. Mr. Haines, on my right, has a horse outside who is deathly afraid of trains and he would like Professor Dailey’s help. Mr. Gordon here has a horse who balks and Mr. Smith has one who’s afraid of dogs.…”
Bill Dailey listened to the high, nasal twang of Mr. Miller’s voice and thought it the sweetest, most satisfying sound in the whole wide world.
N THE
R
OAD
11
At the end of the week the Pittsburgh
News
carried the following story:
A NEW ART BY PROF. DAILEY
True to his word, Prof. Wm. Dailey drove Mr. Miller’s vicious brute known as the Mustang between shafts about the ring of the Carlton Street Carriage House, where the famous horse-tamer has been conducting classes all week. In his last session here Prof. Dailey exhibited his skills before a throng such as has never been seen before in Pittsburgh. The people who filled the arena to the very rafters were attracted by that natural morbidity of the human mind which expects to be gratified by seeing some appalling disaster. In this case they were most grieviously disappointed for instead of seeing the Mustang “mash things,” as was his wont, they saw a docile animal driven by a
gentleman who appeared neither alarmed nor expectant of any serious results from driving such a horse. At the close of his exhibit Prof. Dailey stated that although he has succeeded in taming and driving this vicious brute he did not feel that the Mustang would ever be safe on city streets. He has made arrangements for Mr. Miller to send him back west.
It is with deep regret that the horsemen of Pittsburgh bid good-bye to Prof. Dailey for they have acclaimed his system of educating horses and unanimously and enthusiastically endorse him and his methods to the public at large. His success here has been unprecedented and his teachings unparalleled in their field. What the members of his classes have learned could not be bought elsewhere for ten times the sum paid for the instruction. Prof. Dailey goes to Butler from here and we bespeak for him a hearty welcome there and the usual success attending his efforts. The Professor is a man of his word, professing no more than he performs, and doing good wherever he goes. In his teachings he not only instructs his scholars but also benefits the horses by introducing a more humane and gentle course of treatment, and therefore merits the name of benefactor to the brute race. We congratulate the people of Butler on their acquisition!
In Butler, Bill Dailey worked under canvas for the first time. The annual fair was being held there and he was asked to exhibit his skill. At first he did
not like it at all. The slick shell-game operators and carnival men reminded him too much of Finn Caspersen. Whenever he looked at a sideshow poster or listened to a spieler claiming whatever was inside to be “
The most reemarkable on the face of the earth!
” he could not help thinking of Finn. To make matters worse, the grounds were filled with medicine men selling their Indian cure-alls for every ailment a person might have.
When he went to work in his big tent he found that he soon forgot Finn Caspersen. Never before had he met so many serious horsemen. The majority were farmers, there to enter sleek teams of horses, fat oxen, pigs and fine cattle in the fair competition while their wives displayed canned fruits, quilts and needlework. Such men were eager to learn all Bill could teach them about handling horses and he worked harder than he ever had in his life. By the end of the week he had made many more friends.
From Butler he went to Johnstown, Altoona and Williamsport, where he had no trouble filling his classes to capacity. His reputation as a horse-tamer and educator was spreading quickly throughout the East. The Williamsport
Mirror
informed its readers of this fact.
PROF. DAILEY WITHOUT RIVAL
During the present week Prof. Dailey, the celebrated horse-tamer and educator, has conducted his classes in this city. He has created a genuine furor among all interested in horses, and his
reputation has extended to a large section of the countryside, for people have attended his classes from over twenty miles distant.
Prof. Dailey has succeeded in subduing and rendering perfectly tractable horses that have resisted all previous efforts of horse-breakers and others to reduce them to submission. His wonderful power over horses excites the most astonishment from those who are the best posted in equine care and treatment. The exhibition of his skill in driving trained horses without the use of bridle or reins is superior in interest to the choicest feature of the best traveling circus today.
Bill Dailey put down the newspaper and turned to his brother. “I wish they wouldn’t keep comparing us to a travelin’ circus,” he said.
“What difference does it make as long as they come to see you?” Hank asked. “The more people you reach, the better job you do.”
Bill grinned. “You’re startin’ to talk like Finn. I wonder where he is?”
“I thought we weren’t to mention his name again,” Hank said in surprise.
“I’m gettin’ over him. I’d like to know what he’s doin’.”
Bill soon found out. He had finished his last class in Williamsport and was getting ready to move on to his next engagement in Scranton when he was handed a circular by a member of his class who asked, “Do you know this fellow?”
The circular read:
BOSS HORSE-TAMER
OF THE WORLD,
AUTHOR OF A NEW SYSTEM!
PROF. FINN CASPERSEN
EXHIBITS DAILY AT
NEW YORK AMPHITHEATER
Bill Dailey said quietly, “I know him, all right. He’s a charlatan, a humbug.”
A look of surprise came over the man’s face. “You’d have a hard time convincing his audiences of that fact,” he said. “I have just returned from New York and this man has gained a very wide reputation for himself.”
“His only experience with horses is driving one behind a peddler’s cart!” Bill exploded with mounting anger. “Did you see him exhibit?”
“No, but my friends did, and they were very much impressed by him.”
“He’ll seriously injure or kill horses if he isn’t stopped,” Bill said with grave concern.
The man smiled. “I believe you’re unduly upset, Professor. After all, New York is the greatest metropolis in the country. Its horsemen are among the most skillful and critical in the world, I imagine. They wouldn’t be easily fooled, and this man Caspersen has certainly won their attention.”
“He knows enough about my system to interest them,” Bill answered, “but he never took the time to learn it well. Nor does he have the sense of responsibility or patience to do so.”
Again the man smiled. “You sound almost jealous of your friend’s success, sir.”
“He’s no friend of mine,” Bill replied abruptly. “If he’s subduing horses before an audience, I know exactly how he’s getting away with it.”
“I’m told he whispers in their ears and rubs something on their noses. It seems to work like magic.”
“He should be stopped,” Bill said, more to himself than to his visitor.
“He also seems to be something of a horse doctor,” the man went on. “He has excellent remedies for the cure of spavin, ring-bone and other diseases of horses.”
Bill Dailey shook his head in bewilderment. “And yet you say New York horsemen are among the most critical in the world?”
“In my opinion they are,” the man answered.
“I think you’re wrong if Finn Caspersen is sellin’ them his taming medicine and cure-alls.”
The man resented Bill Dailey’s criticism and there was sarcasm in his voice when he challenged, “Since you’re so convinced Caspersen’s a fraud why don’t you expose him?”
“I will,” Bill said, “right after Scranton. I’m not goin’ to break faith with those people. When I’m through there, I’ll go to New York and find Finn Caspersen.”
TEAMING
D
EMON
12
Locating Finn Caspersen in New York City was not a simple task, as Bill learned upon his arrival. It was his first visit to the huge metropolis and its activity overwhelmed him. Hank too was bewildered.
As they passed through the streets early one Sunday afternoon no one paid the least bit of attention to Bill’s skill in driving four-in-hand, much less to his coach which he had thought the handsomest in the land. After all, he was only one in a parade of many horses and carriages much finer than his own, some of which were also being driven four-in-hand. Bill noted too that the drivers all wore silk toppers, striped waistcoats and boutonnieres, and that sitting beside them were the most fashionably dressed and beautiful women he had ever seen in his life.
“I never saw so many howling swells!” he told his brother, awe in his voice.
“And, I doubt, better horses,” Hank said in the
same awed voice. “There’s nothing big, fat and slow about these. They’re lookers, all of them.”
“So are the girls,” Bill added. “It seems that we’re doin’ the fashionable thing on a Sunday, Hank.”
They found the city itself as forbidding as it was strange, for the streets were crammed with block after block of houses and buildings. Yet they admitted to each other that they felt the strong pull of New York. Here was violent power and excitement! It was a city that would be forever on the rise and constantly changing. They wondered if this in some way was not beauty in itself.
They stopped in astonishment when they came to a railroad built in the air on towering iron trestles. Cars rattled past, drawn by a steam engine belching sparks and smoke. Their horses screamed and Bill had all he could do to quiet them as ashes, water and oil splattered on them from above. Other horses besides their own were frightened but what was most surprising was that many weren’t! It proved that horses could get used to
anything
.
Hank watched the elevated train in dread, fearful that it would jump the tracks and tumble to the street below. Its speed must have been well over thirty miles an hour! No one would ever get
him
to ride in such a contraption, never in his whole life!
Bill turned his horses away from the sight, and not until he was several blocks from the elevated railroad did he slow them to a walk. His gaze strayed often to the horse-drawn cars on the tracks in the middle of the streets and he wondered how long such street cars
could compete with the steaming demon they had seen a few moments ago.
Upon reaching the East River they stopped to watch the traffic passing over the brand-new Brooklyn Bridge. High above the water it hung from curved cables swung between two gigantic towers on opposite shores. To see this a few minutes after seeing the elevated train was almost too much for one day! Finally they turned away, wondering more than ever how they would be able to find the one man they were seeking in so big a city.
When they went across town again they came to a thoroughfare called Broadway. There they found luxurious hotels and theaters. The sidewalks were jammed with people, and there was no letup in the carriage traffic. It took all of Bill’s skill to avoid accidents and at the same time observe everything that was taking place on both sides of the fabulous avenue.
He noted the lavish facades of the theaters with the strange new bulbs which Mr. Edison had invented. “Incandescent” they were called and he wondered if they would ever replace gas-lit lamps.
An actress from London named Lillie Langtry was beginning an American tour, he learned from a large poster. He passed the Casino Theater, which interested him very much because of a group called the Casino Girls whose pictures were outside this luxurious temple of beauty. He stopped the horses to read the name below the picture of the blond actress—Lillian Russell. It would be nice to meet her, all right.