According to the accounts of the old horse his youth had been spent in a time the like of which True could never see. He told of the gaily dressed dandies--waiting on ladies in silks and satins and waving plumes--at the meets; of the sudden seal of disapproval Congress had put upon the dissipations and extravagances of the race-course; of how the Annapolis Jockey Club had set the foolish fashion of economy by closing its course; of how the grass grew up in the one-time splendid Centre Course at Philadelphia. But of all his anecdotes the tale of how True Briton became a true Patriot interested the young horse most, and ran in this wise: Colonel De Lancey was stationed at Westchester with his regiment, which was known far and wide as “The Cow-Boys,” because they stole cattle from the “Skinners” (a name given the farmers at that time). At last the latter resolved to appeal to the Colonel-in-command for a protection of their rights and property. Accordingly, “Skinner Smith” called upon Colonel De Lancey, a white handkerchief tied to a stick, to show a peaceful errand, and made complaint of the depredations of the “Cow-Boys.” Now the Colonel, ever cool and gay, as became a De Lancey, cried out with a great laugh: “These be the chances of war, my lack-beard. If my good soldiers need cattle, or food of other kind, and you will not give it to them, egad! they must steal it! Best curb your uncouth tongue and be gone!” “Then, by my lack of beard!” quoth Skinner Smith, nettled--he was an impudent young scamp, and feared no one--“‘What is sauce for the goose, is sauce for the gander!’ If these be the ‘chances of war,’ look well to that fine horse of yours! I warn you fairly, others can be cattle stealers, too! I warn you fairly--and now wish you a very good day.” It chanced that under cover of darkness one night, shortly afterward, Colonel De Lancey rode to see his mother at some distance and left True Briton hitched at the door-step. Young Smith, waiting his “chance of war,” sprang from behind a tree as the door of the house closed, unhitched the horse, leaped into the saddle and plunging spurs into True Briton’s sides--who, wide of eye and red-nostrilled, sprang forward--did not draw rein until he was well within the American lines. The amazed and disgusted Colonel raised an alarm and roused his orderlies, but too late. He never saw his favorite again until one fine day he found himself incarcerated in the jail at Hartford with many another “Red-Coat.” Beautiful Bay, then in the possession of Mr. Selah Norton, was standing in front of Bull’s Tavern, across Meeting House Green. “Blood will tell, in men as well as horses,” finished Beautiful Bay. “When Colonel De Lancey recognized me he threw me a laughing greeting and a wave of the hand. I could almost hear what his parted lips were saying: ‘The chance of war, my friend!’” CHAPTER VI. TRUE GAZES UPON MISTRESS LLOYD, OF MARYLAND.