Spook Sightings Of Yester Year - No.16 - Girl Apparition & A Phantom Horse

 (Today's stories come from the St.Louis Daily Globe -Democrat, dated Saturday Morning, January 21st, 1893)

SPOOKS AND SPIRITS

A Girl's Apparition In The Mountains

Creed Haymond, a prominent lawyer of San Francisco, died in that city a few days ago. The 'Examiner' relates this incident in his life :

For a year and a half after arriving in California in 1852, he carried the Wells, Fargo & Co.'s mail on the mountains. Brave and impetuous, he feared nothing, it is said, and only on one occasion was he ever frightened. It was no bold highwayman either, that made him fear. It was an apparition. Slender, delicate, and in the form of a young and pretty girl all clad in white, it ran across the old Sierra County road on which he was riding. His horse stopped and shook with fright and weak and sick with fear himself, the cold persperation stood out on his brow, bitter cold though that December night was. He always believed that what he saw was a ghost, and he never forgot the sensations he felt on seeing it. He never pretended to explain it.

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Phantom Horse Statue in Nebraska

(From the Omaha Bee)

Midway in the state of Nebraska, at a point on the plains between Grand Island and Kearney, passengers on the Union Pacific trains have occasionally seen what is know to the people of that section as the 'phantom horse'. Not the mirage nor the appearance of water in the dry arroyos of New Mexico, nor any illusion you have ever seen is so realistic as this horse ghost. It appears always on the south side of the railroad at the extreme point of vision, where the heavens and earth seem to meet, and your first impression is astonishment at seeing a horse, life size, distinct and natural in appearance, so far away. Then you wonder whether it is standing on the earth or outlined upon the sky, and before you can decide the question it has vanished or you have passed the point of view. I do not attempt to explain this phenomenon, but describe the phantom as I saw it and give the story as I heard it.

Some years ago, before that great overland route, the Union Pacific Company was constructed, at a time when the whoop of the indian, the bellow of the buffalo and the howl of the coyote were not uncommon sounds on the prairies of Nebraska, a handome, cultured man riding a well-bred horse and evidently fresh from the States, accompanied by one of those familiar characters of the West, of bronzed and swarthy complexion, wearing a sombrero and riding a bronco, left the main trail and turned in the direction of the Platte. Within half an hour they reined in their horses on the north bank of that mighty stream of sand. The river appeared then as it does to-day, a mile of or more in width, straggling streams of shallow water and numerous islands of sand. For a few moments they gazed upon the south bank, then earnestly debated the question of crossing. There was a difference of opinion, but the matter was soon decided by the handsome stranger riding straightaway into the bed of the river.

At first, everything seemed to favour his decision, and he had proceeded one-third of the way across. The other ventured to follow him, and was 50 yards from the bank, when he noticed the tracks in the sand made by the first horse had filled with water. He called loudly to his companion, and turned back to the shore. the warning word was given too late. The horse was struggling in sand and water to the depth of the saddle skirts. At this moment his rider stood erect and leaped upon an island of dry, white sand. He landed upon his feet, but was ankle deep in the sand - a few steps forward and the sand was to his knees. One desperate struggle he made to bring himself to the surface, but the effort carried him waist deep. He seemed then to realize his terrible position, and lifting up his voice gave a message to his horror-stricken companion, striving by word and geture to make him comprehend it, but without success. The creeping, insidious, devouring sand was now to his shoulders. 

He had taken from the inside pocket of his coat what seemed to be a package of papers, and holding it above his head was evidently trying to impress upon his companion the importance of their preservation, but his voice was silenced by the cruel sand in his throat. A moment more and it had closed over his head, entombed alive in that far away, desolate spot, and the island of sand presented the same smooth, dry and apparently firm surface. A small damp spot and near it a package of papers was all to indicate that but a moment before it had treacherously engulfed a human being.

The man upon the bank, transfixed by the fascination of horror, gazed at the spot he knew not how long. As he turned away from the weird, mysterious river he saw a short distance down the stream a riderless horse still struggling with the sand and water. Back he rode to the main trail and eastward on the trail to the first settlement. There he told the story of the man lost in the sand. He was himself one of those hardy spirits of the plains who as guide or scout was ready for any enterprise that promised adventure and life in the open air. He knew naught of the lost man - had been employed as a guide to take him to a certain settlement in the South Platte country. Who the stranger was, from whence he came, and the purpose of his lonely journey, are secrets held by the quicksands of the Platte, unless revealed by the package of paers left on the sand, which, it is hinted, were afterwards secured by one who heard the guide's story, and that large and very valuable landed property is wrongfully held by virtue of the possession of that package of papers. There may yet be an interesting sequel to the guide's story of the lost stranger, with whom the settlers associated the illusionary horse, for over there beyond the Platte, opposite the point where the crossing was attempted, to this day at intervals of time appears the phantom horse in an attitude of patient waiting, perhaps for a phantom rider.

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