MY QUEST OF THE ARAB HORSE 



him in the least, and his command of the horse 

 was perfect. Not many of the horses had 

 jibbahs, or full foreheads, so esteemed by the 

 Bedouin desert tribes. They were ridden in 

 a circle over a pile of loose stones about the size 

 of hen's eggs. 



Yet over these rolling rocks they galloped 

 and pranced, changing gaits as easily as an 

 auto will shift its gear. We all commented on 

 the fact that there never was a misstep, or a 

 stumble, or a bumping of ankles. A bay horse 

 with a peculiar blazed face and feet, eighteen 

 years old, was as nimble as any colt. Their 

 lack of exercise was plain from their stuffy 

 flanks, but their action was beautiful. In the 

 stall they were tied from each side, and from 

 the middle of the nose-band, and one, a white 

 stallion, was fastened by the front pastern. To 

 get exercise most of them had pawed holes in 

 the concrete floor. All in all they were a fine 

 lot of horses, but poorly kept, to say the least. 



The Sultan, himself, is a horseman, and per- 

 haps knows the breeding of every animal in his 

 stables. And he being a horseman, I would 

 dare make a suggestion to him, as a Westerner 

 to an Easterner. 



The horses in the Turkish Empire show a 



[24] 



