6o JUSTIN MORGAN 



petals oi a wild-rose and did she smell like clover blos- 

 soms after a sudden shower?" 



But Caesar had not noticed, he said, as he sat on the 

 edge of the doorsill, and began his inevitable face-wash- 

 ing. 



"Had not noticed! Then indeed, it was not she," 

 thought True, impatient with the cat. Even a cat would 

 have noticed Mistress Lloyd. 



He spent a lonely night and was relieved to set out 

 early in the morning for Randolph, Vermont, where Jus- 

 tin Morgan lived ; the old home was not what it had 

 been and any change was better than the atmosphere 

 that hung over all at the Whitman farm. 



Besides, Justin Morgan was kind to him and they 

 were good friends enough, and no doubt Randolph was 

 as good a village as Springfield. He grew philosophic 

 as they started off. 



They galloped over fields and through vague roads, 

 or walked under vast overhanging and dense forests, 

 and in time they came in sight of the bold, heavily-tim- 

 bered Green Mountains — "The Footstools of Allah," his 

 mother had called them. They gave the young horse 

 a feeling of strength and confidence ; he felt his muscles 

 expand at sight of their bold outlines and he had no 

 fear of their difiiculties. From the top of one he gazed 

 at the view, entranced, rearing his fine bony head and 

 breathing deeply of the pure life-giving air. 



According to his mother's prophecy it would be in the 

 shadow of these mountains that he, scion of a hundred 

 famous horses, would found the new race, and at first 

 sight of their high broken sky-line, he made a resolve to 

 live such an exemplary life that it would be a standard 

 for that race to come. 



Master Morgan was town-clerk, school-teacher, and 

 singing master, and went daily from place to place with 



