A STRANGER TO THE WILD.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 24, Issue 18, 7 March 1913, Page 2

A STRANGER TO THE WILD.

The schooner which had fallen cn such sudden doom among the St. Lawrence reefs had sailed from Oporto with a cargo, chiefly wine, for Onehec. Driven far south of her course by a terrific north taster roaring ilo.vn the La ra-.or, she had, run into a fog as the wind fell, and been swept to her fate in the gnip of an un'-.nown tide-drift. On board, as it chanced, travelling as | a n honored passenger, was a finelybred, white Spanish stallion of Barb descent, who had been shipped to Canada by one of the heads of the great house of Robin, those fishingprinces of Gaspe. Wh.n the vessel struck, and it was seen that her fate was imminent and inevitable, the captain had loosed the beautiful stallion from his stal’i, that at the last he might at least have a chance to fight his own fight for life. And so it came about that, partly through his own agile alertness, partly by the singular favour of fortune, he had avoided getting his. slim legs broken in the hideous upheaval and confusion of the wreck. When the white stallion came to the surface, snorting with terror and blowing the salt from his wide nostrils, he struck out desperately, and soon cleared the turmoil of the breakers. Over the vast, smooth swplls he swam easily, his graceful, high head out of the water. But at first, in his bewilderment and panic, he swam straight seaward. In a few moments, however, as he saw that he seemed to be overcoming disaster very well, his wits returned, and the nerve of his breeding, came to his aid. Keeping on the crest of a roller, he surveyed the situation keenly, observed the land, and noted the maze of reefs that tore the leaden surges into tumult. Instead of hfeadang directly shoreward, therefore—for every boiling whiteness smote him with horror—he shaped Ms course in on a long slant, where the way seemed clear.

Once well south of the loud herd of reefs, he swam straight inshore, until the raving and white convulsion of the surf along the base of the cliff again struck terror into his heartand again he bore away southward, at a distance of about three hundred yards outside the breakers. Strong, toughrsinewed, and endowed with the unfailing wind of his faroff desert ancestors, he was not aware; of any fatigue from his long swim. Presently, rounding a point of rock which thrust a low spur into the surges, he came into a sheltered cove where there was no surf. The long waves rolled on past the point, while in the cove there was only a measured, moderite rise and fall of the grey water, like a quiet breathing, and only a gentle back-wash fringed the black-stoned, weedy beachwith foam. At the head of the cove a shallow stream, running) downthrough a narrow valley, emptied itself between two little red sandspits. Close beside the stream the white stallion came ashore. As soon as his feet were quite clear of the uppermost fringe of foam, as soon as he stood on ground that was not only firm, but dry, he shook himself violently, tossed his fine head with a whinny of exultation, and turned a long look of hate and defiance upon the element from which he had just made his escape. Then at a determined trot he set off up the valley, eager to leave all sight and sound of the sea as far as possible behind him.—Prom "The Haunters of the Silence, a Book of Animal Life.”