In my childhood days in my town of Carmanville, as in many Newfoundland villages of that era, most people kept a horse which was used to bring home firewood etc. In the spring of the year, these horses were turned loose and allowed to roam the town. In Carmanville they would congregate down on the end of town we called Noggon Cove Head, which looks out over Hamilton Sound and the Fogo Island region. The horses would know when a storm was aproaching and would migrate to the other end of town, which was much more sheltered away from the ocean. There was always a very smart horse who could open any gate that man assembled, or one that was strong enough to bust it all down. How they loved a good feed of vegetables. Many a time there was a cry in night that the horses were in the garden. They would trample the vegetables and ruin the crop - which leads to my story. A friend of mine (whom has passed away) was a great storyteller, especially when he was indulging in a few cold beers. Not always were they the gospel truth, I don't think. One time he told me the story of how his father made a cry at 2 a.m. in the morning that the horses were in the garden. He quickly arose from the bed, wearing white long john underwear, hauled on a pair of Ski-Doo boots and went outside. The night was dark in the fall of the year. There was a science involved to get the horses out. First you had to get in behind the main band. Then armed with a few rocks you got them moving. I had first-hand experience at this at least twice. My friend had got the horses, about 30, moving in a fast gallop out through the yard and was running in the rear pelting rocks. Just at the time his younger brother, whom had been out having a few beers and was half in the bag, had just started up the driveway. Suddenly he was engulfed in the midst of the stampede of horses, with this white form coming behind in the darkness. The poor man almost passed out from the fright and thought the devil himself was coming to get him. He was so relieved when he heard the familar voice of the white ghost, who turned out to be his brother. Anyhow, that's one that was told me by my great old friend, Liney Jarge.   Submitted By: keith Collins