Still, I continued to loan him to anybody who was willing to borrow him, my idea being to get him crippled, and throw him on the borrower’s hands, or killed, and make the borrower pay for him.  But somehow nothing ever happened to him.  He took chances that no other horse ever took and survived, but he always came out safe.  It was his daily habit to try experiments that had always before been considered impossible, but he always got through.  Sometimes he miscalculated a little, and did not get his rider through intact, but he always got through himself.  Of course I had tried to sell him; but that was a stretch of simplicity which met with little sympathy.  The auctioneer stormed up and down the streets on him for four days, dispersing the populace, interrupting business, and destroying children, and never got a bid—­at least never any but the eighteen-dollar one he hired a notoriously substanceless bummer to make.  The people only smiled pleasantly, and restrained their desire to buy, if they had any.  Then the auctioneer brought in his bill, and I withdrew the horse from the market.  We tried to trade him off at private vendue next, offering him at a sacrifice for second-hand tombstones, old iron, temperance tracts—­any kind of property.  But holders were stiff, and we retired from the market again.  I never tried to ride the horse any more.  Walking was good enough exercise for a man like me, that had nothing the matter with him except ruptures, internal injuries, and such things.  Finally I tried to give him away.  But it was a failure.  Parties said earthquakes were handy enough on the Pacific coast—­they did not wish to own one.  As a last resort I offered him to the Governor for the use of the “Brigade.”  His face lit up eagerly at first, but toned down again, and he said the thing would be too palpable.

Just then the livery stable man brought in his bill for six weeks’ keeping—­stall-room for the horse, fifteen dollars; hay for the horse, two hundred and fifty!  The Genuine Mexican Plug had eaten a ton of the article, and the man said he would have eaten a hundred if he had let him.

I will remark here, in all seriousness, that the regular price of hay during that year and a part of the next was really two hundred and fifty dollars a ton.  During a part of the previous year it had sold at five hundred a ton, in gold, and during the winter before that there was such scarcity of the article that in several instances small quantities had brought eight hundred dollars a ton in coin!  The consequence might be guessed without my telling it:  peopled turned their stock loose to starve, and before the spring arrived Carson and Eagle valleys were almost literally carpeted with their carcases!  Any old settler there will verify these statements.

I managed to pay the livery bill, and that same day I gave the Genuine Mexican Plug to a passing Arkansas emigrant whom fortune delivered into my hand.  If this ever meets his eye, he will doubtless remember the donation.