Upon a hill at Randolph Centre perched a little store where the farmers gathered in cold weather to warm themselves with Medford rum, a common enough drink in those days, to express lavish opinions as to political affairs of the young nation, so lately separated from her Mother Country, or to discuss more intimate local business. Master Morgan drank little, being more inclined to quiet study than sociability, but his way led past the store and he often stopped to hear the news. There were no newspapers in those days, and all news came by letter or word-of-mouth of the stage-drivers. Whilst waiting outside for his owner True made pleasant acquaintances among the horses who also stood awaiting their riders. A grey mare, very old, very wise and very strong in her convictions, whom he often met, told him many mane-raising stories of Indian days--so recently passed through--and the more his wide-set ears pointed and the more his dark prominent eyes grew eager the better the old pioneer liked it. One of her strange tales was how she discovered her master, Experience Davis, after he returned from his two years’ captivity with the Indians. One day, she told True, as she stood quietly near Davis’ hut, nibbling lazily among the stumps and stones of the new-cleared field to get the last blades of grass and weeds, she heard a frightful sound approaching. She thrilled with horror! Davis, hoeing, hard by, also heard and dashed frantically into his hut, closing the door and barring it securely--right well did everyone of the time know what those dreadful war-whoops and blood-curdling yells foreboded! Old Grey threw back her head and sniffed for a better scent with red, comprehending nostrils. Then, as a band of painted, half-naked savages, brandishing their tomahawks, rushed from the forest, she snorted and fled--her sparse tail high in the air, her heart stricken with fear. On an eminence afar, she stopped and saw the wretches burst open the hut-door and drag her struggling master out. Binding him tightly, and securing everything that might be of use, they set fire to the hut and disappeared into the forest with war-whoops, taking Davis with them. Old Grey waited sadly on the river-bank until hunger and loneliness induced her to return. Alas, the ruin that met her eyes! A neighbor who had escaped the massacre of that day found her, wandering about in despair, and, thinking his friend Experience must have been burned in his hut or scalped, took the old mare to share such life as the pioneers of that day had to endure. When he went to live in Hanover, Old Grey went along, too. One fine sunny day two years later, as she stood hitched in the old Meeting House yard, she felt a thrill, her heart began suddenly to beat faster, she looked around, disturbed in spirit for some strange, unknown reason. At last she saw a man crossing the yard, and a moment later recognized her old friend Experience Davis!