Page:History of the 305th field artillery (IA historyof305thfi01camp).pdf/118

100 that will give everyone a square deal. Meantime, put the horses up."

And the red disappears from the faces of the wranglers, and they go away arm in arm, good friends until the next fair day.

Sharp trading was necessary. Not only were many of the horses bad, but they died in large numbers, and replacements weren't simple to get.

Major Johnson was largely instrumental in holding casualties down and in conditioning the survivors. He was also a bulwark between us and the gypsy desires of other organizations. For the horse trade fever swept the entire brigade.

"I thought they might court martial me to-day," he would say after an hour or two at the stables or brigade headquarters with higher ranking officers than himself, "but I've held them off our horses."

The remount men watched the bargaining and smiled. They had their own axe to grind, and they liked to see a favorite animal well placed. They were capable of diplomacy when officers of higher rank than the one chosen threatened to interfere.

"Sure. A beautiful horse, sir," the remount man might say to the very high ranking officer. Few better in looks have come out of the depot. You might go farther and fare worse.”

He winks at the junior officer for whom that horse is destined. The senior glances up.

"What do you mean? What's the matter with him?"

"Matter! Who said anything was the matter? Of course, sir, all horses have their little foibles."

“I thought so. Talk up. What's the matter with this one?"

The remount man gazes at him admiringly.