MY QUEST OF THE ARAB HORSE 



At the last minute, though the good health of 

 the horses had been testified to by a veterinary, 

 other veterinaries stood waiting to be tipped 

 and bribed, lest they should get into trouble 

 with the Turkish spy, who was anxious to have 

 his name go before the Sultan. All this time 

 the heat was getting more intense. 



It was ten o'clock and we'd been up since be- 

 fore daylight trying to hurry things along. 

 Barley was being shipped aboard, seven thou- 

 sand pounds of it, as well as hay, or stuff which 

 they call hay. The first horses were being 

 brought to the boat, and to try and get some 

 relief from an upset mind, I asked them as a 

 favor to bring the Maneghi Sbeyel stallion 

 along first. He had never seen a box-stall 

 and had never been asked to walk into one 

 before, but I thought that with his broad fore- 

 head he would know more than some of the 

 other colts. The Maneghi approached the 

 box. With five hundred curious town Arabs 

 looking on, he stopped for a moment to gaze 

 at it, and then at the first asking he walked 

 in with a majestic swing that characterized all 

 his motions. The door was closed behind him 

 and fastened by an iron bar. 



It was I, I think, who suggested that a 



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