The farm animals on strike

Chapter I

EE up, there, Dobbin ! Whoop ! ” With a shout that rang through the forest Tom Shane let the heavy “ black snake ” whip fall on the flanks of the two willing horses. Again and again the heavy whip fell on the “off” horse, which was apparently unable to “pull even” with the younger horse on the “near” side. The horses tugged at the traces, and floundered about in the mud, but were unable to move the heavy load to which they were hitched.

“Be aisy there now, Tom, will ye? It’s stuck ye are now, sure enough,” said an Irishman who came lip just then.

“It’s all on account of that lazy Dobbin,” said Tom, “he didn’t pull a pound.”

“Arrah, there now, it’s forgettin’ the age o’ the horse ye are. Sure , there wasn’t a horse on the place cor Id pull icid him whin he was younger. It’s gettin’ along in the years I am mesilf, an’ age will be weariiv the strength o’ a horse the same as a man. Let ’em stand ’til I get a bit of a pry under the wheel. ”

He procured a fence rail, and proceeded to put it under the wheel as a lever to lift it a little out of the “chuck hole” where it had stopped. Those who are familiar with the ungravelled roads of Indiana in former years need not be told what a “chuck hole” is ; but to those not experienced in such matters it might be explained that heavy hauling over these roads will wear deep holes with sharp edges, and when the vlieel of a loaded wagon drops into one of these holes it is very difficult to pull it out. Thanks to an increased population, such roads are not so numerous as they were in former years, and teaming is not necessarily such a horse-killing business as it used to be.

“Now, will ye give ’em another pull?” said Mike, who had his “ bit of a pry” under the wheel, and was dangling on the end of it doing his best to lift the wheel a little.

“Give ’em a sclnnall taste of the whip, to encourage ’em a little,” he cried.

Again the whip was unsparingly used by Tom, and the two horses exerted all their powers, but only suc¬ ceeded in moving the wagon enough to let Mike’s pry slip out, and he came sprawling down in the mud. But more serious results had followed. Old Dobbin was down, and Tom, in his anger, was cutting him with his whip to make him get up.

“Hould on there, bye,” shouted Mike, coming for¬ ward, covered with mud. “Ye wouldn’t sthrike a man whin he’s down; thin why don’t ye show the same dacency to a dumb brute ! Unhitch the chains there ; don’t you see the ould horse is chokin’ ? ”

“Little do I care if. he dies,” said Tom, as he ungraciously assisted in extricating him. “ Here it is coinin’ night, an’ this load stuck here in the middle of the road all on account of that old brute.”

“It’s the fault o’ yer feyther, it is; for if he’d be doin’ the right thing by old Dobbin he’d give ’im the run o’ the pasture for the rist of his days widout a bit of the work to do. It’s goin’ on twinty years since he was broke to the harness, an’ that’s afore you was horned,” said Mike.

“ Come, old fellow, get up and he assisted the old horse to his feet.

“Hello, there, what’s up?” shouted the driver of a team that had come up behind.

“ Sure, an’ it’s stuck in the mud we are,” said Mike. “An’ it’s glad we are to see ye, Mr. Tracy, if ye’ll give us a pull at the ind o’ the tongue wid thim beau¬ tiful horses o’ yourn.”

“ Ah, it’s Shane’s team !” said Mr. Tracy, “and old Dobbin has been down. Shane never will learn when a horse is used up. He’s had twenty years good ser¬ vice out of that horse and isn’t satisfied yet. That’s a good load for four horses over such roads as these.”

“That’s tlirue,” said Mike, “ but Shane niver sinds four horses to do the ivork he can get out of two.”

Mr. Tracy’s team was soon hitched to the end of the tongue, and the four horses easily pulled the wagon out of the mud.

“The old horse is winded,” said Mr. Tracy, “ and can never pull that load home. It’s a shame to treat a faithful old horse in that manner. You had better pull out to the side of the road, and come back in the morning with a better team.”

Mr. Tracy’s advice was taken, as it was evident that old Dobbin was about used up.

About twenty-five years previous to this time John Shane had moved to Indiana, and had bought a small farm, on which he built a saw mill; and by running the mill in winter and farming in summer he had added to his possessions until he was now the owner of two hundred acres of fine farm land. He had been a hard¬ working man, and was now considered a well-equipped and prosperous farmer. He was a hard man to deal with, and always aimed to make a dollar where other people made a dime.

It was a favorite maxim of his that nothing should stay on the farm that did not more than pay expenses.

There was not a beast or fowl on the farm but what his careful eye was on it, and everything must bring in money or its fate was sealed.

Avarice held full sway over his mind, and there was no room in his nature for kindness. Everything on the place felt the effects of his ill-temper — even his family did not always escape. His son Tom had, to a great degree, absorbed his father’s sentiments, al¬ though a good boy at heart. A boy’s character is often ruined by his early training, and Tom was guilty of many acts, of cruelty to dumb animals which he did not know were wrong, simply because his father had set him that kind of example. He did not know tnat he was violating any rule of humanity by such acts, because his thoughts had not been directed in that channel.

Altogether the animals on Shane’s farm had a pretty hard time of it. There were two redeeming characters' on the farm, however, and they were Mrs. Shane and her daughter Edith. Invariably kind and gentle in their ways, they were loved by everything on the farm, and their righteous indignation would sometimes get the better of their judgment, and they would speak their minds about the cruelties practised by father and son. They would usually meet with the reply that “Women had better keep still about things that don’t consarn ’em.” And John Shane said, “Nothin’ made him madder than for a woman to interfere when he was dealin’ with his animals.”

Tom, having arrived at home, and put the horses in the stable, came into the house, just as the family were sitting down to the supper table.

“You are late to-night, Tom,” said Shane. “Has anything gone wrong?”

“Yes, everything’s gone wrong,” answered Tom, in a surly mood; “and if I can’t have a better team to work with I won’t do any more teamin’.”

“Come, sir,” said his father, “none of that kind of talk—-I won’t have it. What’s the matter with the team?”

“ Why, enough’s the matter,” said Tom. “We got stuck in the mud down by Ford’s, an’ old Dobbin choked down an’ would’nt pull a pound; ” and Tom proceeded to tell the whole affair as it occurred, not omitting' Mr. Tracy’s remarks.

“I think Tracy had better mind his own business and leave mine alone,” said Shane, a little piqued.

“Well, if he had, your wagon would be standing down there in a mud hole yet,” said Tom.

“That ain’t what I mean,” said Shane. “That’s no more than I’d do for a neighbor; but 1 know' a good horse as well as Tracy does; an’ my horses don’t take no back seat for his neither.”

“He don’t drive any wind-broken nor worn-out horses,” retorted Tom.

“ No more w'ould 1 if it wasn't for your mother, w r bo makes me keep old Dobbin.”

“Well, John,” said Mrs. Shane, mildly, “you don't need to icorTe old Dobbin if you do keep him. I am sure, as Mr. Tracy says, he has earned a rest for the balance of his life.”

“You know my principles, Mary, that nothin’ shall stay on this farm that don’t pay expenses.”

“ I brought Dobbin here when I married you , John , and here he is going to stay as long as he lives.”

Something in the tone of her voice touched a chord in John Shane’s heart that caused his memory to turn back to the time w r hen he married Mary. He w'as kind-hearted and happy then — but oh, those times were different. A man coulcl’nt afford to be generous now 7 or the world w'ould get the best of him. But why ?

“An’ I say, father,” said Tom, breaking in, “if mother insists on keeping Dobbin, let’s turn him out to pasture. It won’t cost much to keep him, an’ I won’t drive a broken-down horse for people to make remarks about.”

“Especially Cora Tracy’s father,” said Edith.

“No, not ‘especially’ anybody,” said Tom, bri¬ dling up, but blushing at the same time.

“Well, we’ll see about it,” said Shane. “I don't want to hear any more about it to-night.”

Thus he put the matter off, hoping that the event would be forgotten by morning, and that nothing more would be said about it.

Chapter II

IIE events just told took place in the early spring, just at the time when the spring work was commencing on the farm. The trees were beginning to put forth their leaves, and the meadows and fields were green with the growing grass. The violet's along the fence rows were turning up their little faces to the warm sun, and every bird familiar to the climate had made its appearance. Their joyous songs rang through the woods as they flitted hither and thither, building their nests, or turn¬ ing over the leaves looking for bugs and worms. There was no ill-temper displayed by these dwellers of the forest as they went about their work, seeking a living, or building their nests for the summer. Why should not the human family go about their work just as joyously as the birds of the forest?

“Whistle and hoe, sing as you go,

Shorten the row by the songs you know 0 ,!

No such an idea as this had ever entered John Shane’s head, for with him everything w r as bustle and hurry.

The day broke bright and clear on the morning after Dobbin’s misfortune, and the Shane household was up with the sun to begin their daily duties. The convex*, sation of the previous evening had been forgotten by Shane — or at least thrust into the background by more important matters; and as he hurried to the barn to look after the feeding, his only thought was how to get the most work done that day. He walked down the row of stalls, throwing corn into the feed boxes, until he came to Dobbin’s stall, when he stopped as though thunderstruck. Old Dobbin was standing with his head down, wheezing like a man with the asthma.

“Hello; here’s a fine go, right in the busy seasou. Just my everlastin’ bad luck ! ” he exclaimed, for the appearance of Dobbin indicated a severe case of lung fever.

Shane never gave any thought to the comfort of his animals, and Tom followed in the footsteps of his father. He had brought Dobbin home wet with sw r eat, and tied him in. his stall without rubbing him down, and such a thing as a blanket was never heard of in Shane’s stables. Tom’s ill temper had made him even forget to put in the usual bedding of clean straw, and the result was, as any good horseman might expect, that Dobbin had taken a severe cokb

“ How now, Tom,” cried Shane, as Tom entered the barn, “here’s a nice mess you’ve made of things.”

Tom stood w r ith his hands in his pockets, staring at Dobbin; and while his conscience compelled him to feel a little sympathy for the old horse’s sufferings, yet he had the secret satisfaction of knowing that he would not have to drive him any more for a few days, any¬ how.

“You go clown to town an’ bring up Hodges, an* see what he can do for him,” said Shane.

Had he known what would be the result of this action, he would rather have said, “You take him down to the woods an’ put a bullet in his brain.” But he thought Hodges could doctor the old horse up so that he would be able to work again.

Shane got Dobbin out of the stable in the meantime although he was so stiff he could scarcely walk.

Hodges, the veterinary surgeon, soon came and said he thought he could cure him, but that he didn’t believe he would ever be worth much, or able to do much hard work again.

“Well, I’ll spend no money on him,” said Shane. “Here’s your fee for this time, and you needn’t come any more.”

“ Mr. Hodges ,” said a voice behind them, “ you can give old Dobbin all the attention he needs , and I tcill see that you are paid.” It was Mrs. Shane, who had come up just in time to hear Shane’s last remark.

Shane growled out something about “squandering money,” and turning on his heel, went to the barn.

Hodges left medicine with Mrs. Shane, and she and Edith got the old horse into the yard and wrapped him up in an old quilt. They bathed his limbs with the ointment left by Hodges, and Mrs. Shane held his mouth open while Edith poured in the medicine for him to swallow.

Dobbin’s condition soon became known throughout the barnyard, and also the cause of it. There is no question but animals do have some means of communi¬ cating with each other. How it is done we do not know. All migratory birds and folds have a public meeting before starting on their journeys southward, and go in flocks . It is interesting to watch a public gathering of crows, and see the dignified manner in which they will carry on the meeting until there arises a difference of opinion on some point, and then there commences such a chattering and cawing, and rising to points of order, or for personal explanation, as was never heard outside of a session of congress. But in the end they always come to some kind of a decision — which congress does not always do.

It is said that the eagles of southern Indiana have a place of meeting where they hold an annual gathering, and make an apportionment of the country, assigning to each pair a certain territory over which they may hunt; and this meeting of eagles has never been known to be guilty of making a gerrymander , thereby setting a good example to some of our legislatures. It is not necessary for me to enumerate the many acts of sagacity of our domestic animals to show that they have some means of communicating ideas from one to the other.

Old Dobbin was a favorite with everything on the farm, and the news of his misfortune spread in a short time, and was a matter of general discussion by all the animals. Even the chickens missed him, for he never objected to their eating a few grains of corn out of his box; but if they got in his way he would push them

gently aside with his nose-

Even John Shane missed him, but it was the result of a selfish interest; for here was his team broken up, and not a horse on the place to take his place. There was no use of talking about breaking one of the colts; and Bay Dick had such a temper that he couldn’t be worked with any horse hut Dobbin. If he should hitch one of the colts up with Dick, everything would be kicked to splinters in five minutes.

He went among his neighbors and tried to hire or buy a horse, but it was the busy season, and none of them cared to part with any of their horses. In this way he spent the whole day and succeeded in doing nothing but get into a very bad temper.

He went down to the field where Mike was plowing with the only team on the farm, and told him not to spare the horses, but “ put ’em through from daylight till dark.”

“ Not if I know mesilf ,” said Mike to himself, as Shane started away. “It’s not such a fool I am to overtax me own stringth for the sake of getting a little more work out of the horses.”

Shane searched far and wide for a horse, but could find none at that season of the year. His temper grew worse all the time. Tom didn’t escape his wrath either; but Tom had a way of getting even by taking out his spite on the cattle and horses, and even the dog and cat did not entirely escape his kicks and blows. And his leisure time was spent going about the fields shooting birds, as he said “for practise.”

Things went on this way for a week or ten days, when Shane concluded to try breaking one of the colts. His idea of breaking a colt teas by force , and the thought never entered his head that he could subdue it by gentleness. The strong-limbed, beautiful colt was enticed into the stable, and the door securely fastened. A rope witn a slip-noose was then thrown over its head, and as it plunged away the rope tightened around its neck until it was choked almost into insen¬ sibility. A strong bridle was then placed on it and the noose was loosened. After being pulled around and whipped for about an hour the colt became too much exhausted to make furtner resistance, and Shane held it by the bit while Tom fitted on the collar and harness. Bay Dick was then brought out and hitched to the wagon, and the colt was placed alongside of him. Dick resented the idea of being hitched with a colt, and evinced some restlessness. 44 Gettin’ frisky, are you?” said Shane, and he gave Dick a cut with the whip which raised a long welt on his side.

Dick laid back his ears, as much as to say, 44 I’ll get even with you for that.”

41 All ready ; let go ! ” shouted Shane, and Tom re¬ leased the colt’s head, which he had been holding by the bit. It began to rear and plunge about in its efforts to get loose. Dick caught the excitement of the moment, and began plunging and kicking with all his might. The team then started to run, dragging Shane a short distance, when he let go,— and they sped down the lane like a hurricane. The wagon was torn to pieces, and the two norses, trying to jump a fence, went clown together, and were tangled up in the harness. Shane and Tom hastened to the place and extricated them. Dick was all right, but the colt’s leg teas broken.

“ Go to the house and get the rifle,” said Shane.

Tom went; and when he came back Shane put a bullet in the colt’s head, saying, “ It’s no use to fool with a colt with a broken leg.”

Such are the sentiments of many whose hearts are closed against the silent appeals of our dumb animals.

How often have we seen the look of pain in a horse’s eye after receiving cruel blows for failing to do what was impossible— a look which almost seemed to say , “God forgive them , for they know not what they do l

CHAPTER IHe

NDER the kind treatment of Mrs. Shane Dobbin had improved rapidly, and was able to be turned out in the pasture ; but he was still stiff in the joints and short in his wind. Shane had succeeded in getting a man from the village to come with his team and work a few days, but he was far behind his neighbors in getting his corn planted. This soured his temper more than anything else, for he was always ahead of his neighbors in his work, and he blamed it all to “ his everlastin’ bad luck.’'*

From this time on he hardly gave his horses time to eat and sleep, and they were worked down almost to skin and bone. Dick’s temper had not improved any, and he bore the marks of the whip frequently; for Shane said the only way to control a horse was to make him fear you.

About this time it became known about the farm that Dobbin had called a meeting of all the animals on the farm to take some measures for the amelioration of their condition. This meeting was to be held on the next Sunday, as that was the only day when the horses could get off.

Now, the animals did not know exactly what was to be done at the meeting; but they had great confidence in Dobbin, and attended the meeting in full force. It was held under the old oak tree down in the pasture beside the brook. The gathering was rather a surprise to Dobbiu, for he had not expected so many. He had given notice that all the useful auimals and fowls of the farm should be present, and as the result all the horses, cattle, sheep and swine were there, and all the chickens, turkeys, ducks and geese had sent representa¬ tives. Towser, the dog, and puss, the cat, were there in person. All the birds of the forest had sent repre¬ sentatives, and there were also representatives from the snakes and toads.

It was with some apprehension that Dobbin took charge of this great gathering, as it was the first time he had ever attempted to preside over a public meeting, and he would have found himself afflicted with a trem¬ bling of the knees if his knees had not been too stiff to tremble. More than that, he was doubtful if all the representatives present were entitled to seats in the convention; but he concluded to take the matter in his own hands without appointing a committee on creden¬ tials—probably owing to the fact that he never heard of such a committee. He concluded to take the most difficult problem under consideration first, and called on the snakes and toads to state their claims to sit iD the convention.

“We are not animals,” said one of the toads, “ neither are we fowk *, but we do claim to be useful. We destroy many noxious insects that would injure the crops grown on the farm. In fact, we live entirely on insects — such as flies, roaches, mosquitoes, worms, and bugs, that would destroy agricultural crops. And we have been treated ” —

“ Never mind how you have been treated,” said Dob¬ bin, “we will hear that further on. I believe your statements to be true, and will allow you to remain in the convention.”

“And we,” said one of the snakes, “live on insects the same as the toad, and assist in protecting the crops from these pests.”

“Yes,” said the toad, “you sometimes make a meal on one of my species.”

“I admit that such things have been done, but 1 have never been guilty of such a crime,” said the snake.

“ Is not your bite poisonous, and are you not a dan¬ gerous fellow to have about?” inquired Dobbin.

“An entirely mistaken idea,” said the snake ; “there is but one poisonous snake in the State , ancl that is the rattle-snake . We do not associate with them at all. Although our teeth are sharp, we have no poison fangs, and our bite is no more dangerous than the prick of a needle. For the proof of this I refer you to any scientific investigator of the age.”

“Well, we will accept your statements as true, and allow you to remain in the convention,” said Dobbin.

“Bravo ! ” shouted some one in the rear, and Dobbin looked around and saw a long-eared mule.

"Hello! by what right are you here?” inquired Dobbin.

“By the right of my ability to get here,” said the mule. “ I am at present a free and independent char¬ acter in this community, and seeing you assembled here I thought I would come over and see what the caucus was about.”

“May I ask where you belong?” inquired Dobbin.

“I was formerly employed by a street car company of Indianapolis. I received too many kicks and blows and too much hard work for the amount of food I got, so I escaped from the stables and came out in the country for a vacation,” said the mule.

“ Well,” said Dobbin, “if you stay here you will not be likely to find your condition any better.”

“Never mind about me,” said the mule. “It’s just as easy to jump out of the field as it was to jump in; and if farmer Shane tries to capture me, he’ll find I’m something of a kicker.”

“That maybe,” said Dobbin, “but you will find that farmer Shane is something of a kicker too, as all the animals on the farm can testify.”

“We will now proceed with the business of the meet¬ ing,” said Dobbin, “and will call on all the assembled company to state their grievances and make suggestions for the remedy.”

The cow was called upon.

‘ 4 My troubles are not as serious as those of some others on the farm; but I don’t think I have been treated fairly,” said the cow. “ I give all the milk for the family, and don’t begrudge them any of it, yet when they took my calf from me I couldn’t help but worry about it, and once I jumped the fence to get to it. Then Tom came with a club and beat me, and set Towser on me. I don’t think that Towser is a bit bet¬ ter than Tom.”

“Mr. Chairman, I want to say a word here,” said Towser, coming forward. “ I admit that I have chased all the cattle, horses and hogs on the farm; but I have to do what my master commands me to do, for if I don’t I will get kicks and blows. I haven’t inflicted any serious injury on any of you, for my bark has always been worse than my bite.”

“We must not always judge .each other by our actions,” said Dobbin, “ for we are sometimes com¬ pelled to do things that we would not do if left to our own free wills.”

“More than that,” continued the cow, “that good-for-nothing Tom beats me and kicks me when he comes to milk me. He puts my neck iu a stall where I can’t turn my head around, and if I switch my tail to keep the flies off he gets mad and beats me. Why, last night he tied my tail to my leg so that I could not switch the flies, and a fly got on my back and bit me terribly. I couldn’t switch it off with my tail, nor scare it off with my head. I stood it as long as I could, and theu I kicked up with both of my feet. I ouly aimed to scare the fly away, but some way I kicked Tom over and spilled the bucket of milk all over him, and I’m carry¬ ing the bruises on me where he beat me for it. I don’t give down my milk very well sometimes, but what en¬ couragement is there for a, cow that is treated in that manner ? ”

When the cow had finished, Bay Dick was called on.

“I don’t intend to stand this treatment any longer,” said Dick. “A horse don’t get anything but blows on this farm, whether he does right or wrong. I know I’ve got a fiery temper, and always aim to take my own part. I’m sorry I ran away the other day and broke the colt’s leg, but that’s done and can’t be helped. But one thing is certain, I don’t intend to submit to this treatment any longer.”

The other horses all said “bravo,” and “that’s right.”

“ I’d be willing to do my share of the work if I was treated right,” he continued ; “ but I get nothing but kicks and cuffs, and never a kind word. And there’s that Tom has been driving me every Sunday night down to Tracy’s place. He ties me to a strong post out in the road, with my head pulled away back ivith the check-rein , so that I can’t get my head down to rest it. Then he goes into the house and stays until ten or eleven o’clock , while I stand there and shiver ivith the cold. If he would just put a blanket over me I wouldn’t suffer so much ; but it’s little he ever thinks of our comfort. I tried to break loose and come home, but I couldn’t. You all know what old Dobbin has suffered at their hands, and that’s what we’ll all come to in the end.”