FOUNDER OF HIS RACE 35 



finished it himself — little dreaming, either one of them, 

 it was the Whitman's frugal supper. 



During their feast the uproar outside had subsided, 

 and in a little while Silas and his wife came in, saying it 

 was all over with poor old Ceph. 



The noses of the two rescued horses were gray and 

 greasy with the rich mash, but in the thankfulness of 

 their escape the Whitmans cared nothing for that. Mis- 

 tress Whitman put her cheek again True's soupy face 

 and sobbed in a very womanish way for joy at his being 

 spared to them. 



The young horse submitted patiently to her caresses, 

 though her hair, looking like dry, crisp hay, smelled mor- 

 tally of smoke ; he saw it was a comfort to her woman- 

 heart to hang about his neck and murmur softly in his 

 ear: 



"True, dear little horse," she whispered. "It doesn't 

 matter about Ceph." 



''There it is again," thought True. "Nobody cares 

 whether poor old Ceph is burnt up or not." 



And nobody did, as long as Gipsey and he were saved. 



