OLD JACK.

Otago Witness, Issue 2059, 10 August 1893, Page 42

OLD JACK.

VhV JAUIi. All men' like a horse, but only a cavalryman takes a horse into full partnership or gives him that admiration which heroes deserve. Our love for Old Jack began at Gettysburg, when we saw the captain who rode him cut off from the command and called upon to surrender. He shouted his defiance, gave Old Jack the spur, and that horse brought him over seven fences and walls and a great ditch back to his company. A bullet had rak«d the gallant eteed, and the men cheered him as they wiped the blood away with their handierchiefs'. Late that fall, after a slashing cavalry fight on a Virginian meadow ono afternoon, we found Old Jack standing over the dead body of bis master. Other horses ware galloping wildly about, but he showed no excitement. Wounded horses approached him ,to beg for sympathy, but ne drove them away for fear they would in j ire the man at hia fee*". Old Jack was with us up and down the Shenandoah Valley, and one night when a terrific storm stampeded 300 of our horses over to the enemy he alone returned. He raided and fought throughout o that memorable year of 18G4, and wa9 wounded twice again. He was ready for the last campaign, and when ths surrender cama the white flags almost brushed ' his nose. Only the day before that a piece of shell had given him a Bevera wound, but when driven to the rear with hundreds of othtra he literally fought his way back. A quartermaster at Waabiogtjn got hold of him when we returned from Appomattox, but when we knew that our brigade was to go we?t we got Old Jack back on the active list again, and he was one of us. At Leavenwortb, when thsy weeded out the horses preparatory to the long jaunt to the Colorado line, they led Old Jack away to brand him with a " O " and sell him to the, highest bidder at auction. Company A resolved and petitioned and argued, and cur second lieutenant bought him before the degrading branding iron had touched his shoulder. We gave him a reception when

■he returned after his brief absence— the sort of welcome an old oomrade oould have counted on. Up the Platte, as we got into the Indian country, a dozsn men were cut off from the command one day. It was a race for life, The horse of a trooper fell with a broken leg and the lieutenant took the man up behind. Old Jack came in bearing double, and an Indian arrow had grazed bia quarter while making the last half mile. Further west it was Old Jack who suddenly raised an alarm one midnight just in time to save us from attack. A week latter he was bitten by a rattlesnake. The order was to shoot him, as it had been in the case of a score of other horses, but we would nst have it so. Providence sent a rainstorm to stop the march, and we poured whisky enough down Old Jack's neck to make 10 men drunk. After three or four days he was kicking up his heels as of yore, and every man in the brigade wanted a look at him. One day, between the forks of the Upper Fiatte, Old Jack's rider ventured too far from camp, and was rushed by half a dozen Indians. He dismounted and menaced them over the saddle with his revolver. The horse stood like a rock. They yelled and shrieked, and waved blankets and fired their rifles, but they could not stampede him. In the midst of the excitement he saw the relief party while yet a mile away, and neighed a shrill recognition and a warning to ride fast. When I tell you all these things, you will not wonder at our kindly feeling towards our horse comrade. There were just 55 men of us in Company A out on the plains. Had we some day been obliged to accept 55 hard tacks for a full day's rations, no man would have begrudged Old Jack a generous nibble. I remember when the sad day came as if it were only last" week. Two hundred of us were pushing a fresh Indian trail, and the honr was noon, when Old Jack, going at a gallop, put his foot into a gopher hole, and broke a foreleg. Two hundred men groaned j out at sight of the poor beast standing on I three feet after recovering from the fall. We realised that bis last hour had come. To leave him alive behind us woull be inhuman. Their was neither- water nor grass for miles around. The wolves would pull him down after a few hours, and he deserved a nobler death. And yet who could have the heart to kill him 7 " Strip off the saddle and shoot him 1 " That was the order that came back from the head of the column, and that was the order given by our captain to a sergeant. The saddle was removed. Old Jack must have been in terrible pain, but he did not utter a sigh. His eyes opened wider than usual, and he seemed worried and anxious as he looked around. ■ " Captain, I can't do it I It would be as bad as shooting down a comrade." So said the sergeant as he stood revolver in band. A second and a third were named, but they bung back. A corporal stepped out, placed the muzzle of bis revolver to Old Jack's ear, but 100 men shouted in ohoru3, and he did nob pull the trigger. "Compliments of Colonel Blank, with orders to shoot that horse at once I" announced a messenger from the head of the column. " Sergeant Davis, put the pobr beast out of his misery ! " ordered the captain. "I've got to do it or stand a court-martial," growled the sergeant; "but I'd sooner try a shot at somebody down in front. Perhaps be isn't so badly hurt." " Hurry np I Can't you se"e the bone is broken square off?" " It's the same thing as murder, and the Lord will never forgive me for it. Boys, bear me witness that I'm forced to do it." Poor Old Jack 1 He was rubbing his nose against the sergeant's left hand and whimpering as if he would inquire what it was all about. Our faces were all turned the other way. Many of the men stopped their ears to shut oat the report of the revolver, and no one looked back as the column moved on. Looking straight ahead and with a suspicious quivering of the' chin, the sergeant whispered ; " I wish I hadn't done it ! I wish I had taken arrost and court-martial instead. Poor old comrade I "—New York Sun.