28 TRUE STORIES OF OLD
quickly. He was there one moment and out of sight down the
beach the next.
Charley and I had a long walk back to town. We threatened
to sue the stableman for damages and he threatened to sue us,
but finally concluded he had a better case against the circus
people, who had just come to town. He finally fixed it up with
them and aside from our long walk Charley and I experienced no
further inconvenience from our contact with a mixture of Texasraised
horse and camels and elephants.
Being of an inquisitive mind and ever on the lookout for
explanations of common things, I learned something that day. I
had heard all my life about the fleetness and running qualities
of the Arabian steed. I found the solution of the problem that
day. They have camels in Arabia and the horses over there are
so in the habit of running away from them and have been doing
so for so many generations that it has grown to be part of their
natures. If we had a few camels to stir our horses up for a
generation or two, judging by the speed our old plug developed
that day, our mustangs would have the Arabian steeds looking
like 30 cents before long.
A DOUBLE-ACTION GHOST.
HE other night at the Press Club one of the members told
about being nearly scared to death one night while passing
a graveyard by an old white horse. The horse was
simply grazing about among the tombstones, but he was white,
was moving, and was in the graveyard. That combination could
not be resisted and the story-teller left precipitately.
The story reminded me of an incident that happened a long
time ago and of which I had not thought for years. A big crowd
of us went fishing over on White Oak Bayou. The fish began
biting late in the afternoon and it was nearly dark before we
thought of leaving for home. May Stanley and I left before the
others and hurried, too, because we did not care to pass the old
city graveyard after dark.
When we g6t to the graveyard May suggested that we stop
and play a trick on the other boys. I did not want to linger in
that locality a single moment, but he persuaded me to stay and
see the fun. There was an old brick, one-story house used as
the city powder house, located near the far end of the graveyard,
near the bank of the bayou.
The boys would have to come close past this place, so May
set his trap there. He took off his white shirt and rigged it
up on a stick so that when he stood up it looked like a man
Young, Samuel Oliver. True stories of old Houston and Houstonians: historical and personal sketches / by S. O. Young.. Galveston, Texas. The Portal to Texas History. http://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth24646/. Accessed July 9, 2014.