Coaly—Bay, the Outlaw Horse 
The road grew harder as it rose. A very bad bog 
had to be crossed one day. Several horses were 
mired in it, and as the men rushed to the rescue, 
Coaly-bay saw his chance of escape. He wheeled 
in a moment and turned himself from a limping, 
low-headed, sorry, bad-eyed creature into a high- 
spirited horse. Head and tail aloft now, shaking 
their black streamers in the wind, he gave a joyous 
neigh, and, without a trace of lameness, dashed for 
his home one hundred miles away, threading each 
narrow trail with perfect certainty, though he had 
seen them but once before, and in a few minutes he 
had steamed away from their sight. 
The men were furious, but one of them, saying 
not a word, leaped on his horse—to do what? Fol- 
Jow that free ranging racer? Sheer folly. Oh, 
no!—he knew a better plan. He knew the country. 
Two miles around by the trail, half a mile by the 
rough cut-off that he took, was Panther Gap. The 
runaway must pass through that, and Coaly-bay 
raced down the trail to find the guide below await- 
ing him. Tossing his head with anger, he wheeled 
on up the trail again, and within a few yards recov- 
ered his monotonous limp and his evil expression. 
He was driven into camp, and there he vented his 
rage by kicking in the ribs of a harmless little 
packhorse. 
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