“I wish I might have won for you,” said the young man to Miss Ashland. His cap was in his hand and he made the same quaint bow that he had made before. “I think you did win; at least, you ought to have had it. My father says he is a great horse.” At the words the color mounted to his sunburned cheeks. “Thank you,” he said, and looked suddenly deep into her eyes. She put out her hand to pet the horse, and he turned and rested his head against her. She gave an exclamation of delight. “Oh! father, look.” “We know our friends,” said young Johnston. “Dat we does. She 's de on'ies one as bet on him,” asserted old Robin. “Dat young lady knows a good hoss.” “Who is that boy?” asked Mr. Newby, as the horse was led away. “A green country boy with a pedigree,” said a low voice at his shoulder. “Where does he come from!” “Virginia,” said Colonel Ashland. “And his name is Theodoric Johnston. It 's bred in the bone.” ***** Next morning as young Johnston rode his horse out of the stable gate, old Robin walked at his side. Just in front of the pawn-shop Robin pulled out his watch and examined it carefully. “I don' mind but one thing,” he said. “I did n't have dis yisterday to hol' de time on him. But nem mind: wait tell nex' season.” End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bred In The Bone, by Thomas Nelson Page