io8 JUSTIN MORGAN 



ning', but the offer was declined. The world doesn't 

 know Morgan, but I do, and our race is already won!" 



The horse arched his crest at these words of praise. 



''Then all is said !" cried the Colonel, in a tone of re- 

 lief. "My daughter is the finest horse-woman in Mary- 

 land, and that is no mean praise." 



He came to Morgan and placed his hand lightly on 

 the horse's broad forehead, and seeing the Judge had 

 turned away, spoke softly near the pricking ear. 



"Save her. Little Horse, and I will never touch an- 

 other card !" 



Already Morgan could feel the finish of that race and 

 see the flaxen-maned Silvertail toiling behind. He had 

 little regard for a horse with light points (but which do 

 well enough for mere beauty) ; deep in his heart his 

 respect was for dark points, at once indicating possi- 

 bilities of strength, docility and endurance — he had 

 proven these qualities and knew ! 



That afternoon, the sun still high, he was led out to 

 be exercised and prepared for the race. 



Then She came, and, mounting him, rode easily and 

 gaily down the stretch of road to the blacksmith shop 

 where the course, as usual, was marked out along the 

 highway. 



In the fashion of the day her purple habit almost 

 swept the ground as she sat her saddle with firm confi- 

 dence ; her wide hat and plume falling to her shoulders, 

 framed her high-bred face. Her eyes sparkled — for the 

 moment she almost seemed to have forgotten the nature 

 of the stake ! Hers was the embodiment of that South- 

 ern spirit of which Beautiful Bay had so often told True. 



Her grasp of the bridle rein was as gentle as a caress, 

 but as firm as steel — showing, well, she would brook no 

 foolishness from a horse. 



Against the sky the Green Mountains reared their 



