FOUNDER OF HIS RACE ^j 



CHAPTER XL 



MORGAN TRIES CONCLUSIONS WITH THE COXCOMB AND 

 HIS FRIENDS. 



After his triumph at Chase's Mill, the IMorgan and 

 Evans often stopped there on their way home from work. 



A welcome more cordial than usual greeted them one 

 sweet and tranquil afternoon. Cowbells tinkled in the 

 distance, coming home along the River Road for the 

 milking hour, and the chains of Morgan's harness jangled 

 an echo from his sides. The leather parts of this harness 

 were mended here and there with bits of white string, 

 and his usually glossy, short hair was rough and lacked 

 care. He was not pretty, but always bold and fearless 

 in his style of movement. 



As was his custom, Nathan Nye sat whittling his birch 

 stick into useless shavings. 



"Let the Morgan see if it's in him to do it!" he cried 

 to Evans. 



''What's the game to-day?" asked Evans, cheerfully. 



With a backward nod and a frown Nye indicated three 

 strangers standing in the doorway of the little shop. 



"Travellers from over to Benedict's," he explained, 

 in an undertone. ''They heard about our horse and 

 have come to try out against him. Lve got a sneaking 

 idea that we can take the starch out o' their biled shirts 

 for 'em !" He shut his knife with a determined click 

 and rose. "They claim size is necessary for speed and 

 endurance," he went on ; "they are just from The Plains 

 of Abraham ; on their way back to New York ; came yes- 



