3B JUSTIN MORGAN 



once lived in Springfield, but had moved to Randolph, 

 Vermont, in 1788, with his family. 



As Master Morgan pressed the muscles of the young 

 horse the latter did not flnich nor draw away. Then the 

 mouth had to be examined and the feet looked at, one 

 by one. Questions had to be answered and other in- 

 vestigations made, common among men engaged in a 

 horse deal. 



Master Whitman answered the questions, or stood in 

 grave silence, his eyes moist with the tears he could 

 not entirely hide, as his acquaintance considered True's 

 various traits. 



''Yes, sir," the stranger finally said, ''this colt, as you 

 say, is free from natural blemish and is not disfigured 

 by that cruel, prevailing practice of branding. He seems 

 sound. . . . You say he is the son of De Lancey's True 

 Briton, and his mother a descendant of the Layton 

 Barb?" 



"I repeat it," replied Silas Whitman, "these are the 

 facts, to the best of my belief/' 



He could scarcely trust himself to speak. 



"He is remarkably well ribbed-up and firm under the 

 mane, for so young a horse," said Master Morgan, "but 

 he is small." 



"He is not yet entirely developed," was the answer. 

 "You see, he is, as yet, scarce three years old. But he 

 is a bit over fourteen hands, and weighs already upwards 

 of nine hundred pounds. I told you he might be called 

 a pony, except for his characteristics." 



"No doubt he will increase in weight, and maybe a bit 

 in height," Master Morgan agreed. "His Arabian an- 

 cestry would account for his size. Not that I am one 

 of those foolish persons who considers size necessary for 

 perfection,'' he hastily added. "Since I have seen him 

 I am willing to take him in place of the twenty-five dol- 



