FOUNDER OF HIS RACE 97 



was humiliated by the knowledge that there were burrs 

 in his tail and in the bit of dark hair that grew above his 

 fetlocks. 



Chase's Mill was still the centre of the town's gaiety; 

 occasionally there were races, but rarely were the horses 

 worth Morgan's effort. 



In spring, when the world was full of flowers, and 

 orchids and blue flags hung their banners out to tempt 

 the Evans children into the woods, Morgan would go 

 with them to gather these or the more useful medicinal 

 herbs for times of sickness — pleurisy-root, marshmallow 

 or ginseng. In summer he went with them to pick ber- 

 ries of all sorts or wild grapes, and when the autumn 

 came, with its glory of beech and maple, turning to 

 copper and scarlet, he would bring home their bags of 

 nuts across his round back. 



In winter his coat grew long and thick; and Evans 

 himself rode him to distant traps set in the forest for 

 bear, musk-rat and foxes, which supplied food or cloth- 

 ing for the family. The horse grew accustomed after 

 a while to the monotony of his life and tried to make the 

 best of it. 



One cold, clear day Evans cleaned him so very care- 

 fully Morgan felt sure something was about to happen, 

 but did not try to guess what ; he had learned the futility 

 of that long ago, for things never came about as he 

 guessed or planned they should. 



In the course of time, however, he found himself can- 

 tering along the stage-road to Boston. It was a trip 

 he had long wanted to take, -so many horses had told 

 him what a beautiful and gay city it was. 



The day being severely cold, he was glad enough of 

 the long legs and homespun woolen breeches of his rider 

 which covered so much of his sides. As for Evans, he 

 had his muskrat cap pulled well over his ears and his 



