FOUNDER OF HIS RACE 109 



heads, the pastureland on their sloping sides was patched 

 here and there with cloud-shadows, and, where the sun's 

 rays slanted on the Winooski it glittered like a silver 

 line in the valley. No wind, and a late rain, made the 

 condition of the road perfect. 



Loitering about the smithy were a few men who 

 roused themselves at sight of the ^Morgan cantering up 

 with a lady on his back. 



Across the way, on the Inn porch, the sound of voices 

 rose and fell in argument over the policies of Thomas 

 Jefferson, the "Farmer" President ; the purchase of Lou- 

 isiana from the French, and such topics of the time. 

 The idle men to whom the voices belonged sat in a row, 

 their chairs tilted against the wall, but when they saw 

 the Coxcomb swagger forth, they brought them down to 

 the floor, simultaneously, and stared curiously. 



Silvertail was led up and the slender New Yorker 

 swung himself lightly into the saddle. 



The idlers rose, gazed after the retreating horseman a 

 moment, then strode with one accord down the Inn steps 

 and on to the smithy, just in time to see the Coxcomb 

 give ]\Iistress Lloyd a grand sweep of his- hat, as he said 

 gallantly : 



" 'Tis hard to beat so fair an antagonist, but the stake 

 is one I must win !" 



"The race is yet to be run !" the lady made reply, 

 smiling, securely. 



She released the fastenings of her plumed hat and 

 tossed it to her father. 



"Catch, Daddy, dear ! I ride with no frills and furbe- 

 lows to-day ! I wish I were tliat light Francis Buckle. 

 Do you recall, Father, how he won last year at Epsom 

 on Tyrant, the very worst horse that ever won a 

 Derby?" 



"My daughter is almost as light as Buckle and the 



