They went inside the shop, all talking at once, and left True nibbling among the grasses and weeds. When they had disappeared he glanced at the log which the other horses had “refused”--horses much larger and heavier than he. The opportunity he had hoped for had come! “But can I do it?” he asked himself. The answer was, he _could_, and _would_. He was spurred to the greatest effort of his life by the taunt that he was a “pony.” At any rate he was over fourteen hands and weighed nine hundred and fifty pounds! “As I understand it,” Evans was saying, as the men came out of the shop, “the agreement is that my horse has got to pull that big log ten rods onto the logway, _in three pulls_, or I lose?” “That’s the idea, exactly,” assented Miller Chase. Evans took hold of True’s bridle confidently, and led him to the enormous log, where he fastened the tugs properly. Then he stepped one side and looked the young horse straight in the eye. True returned his look--they might almost have been said to have exchanged a wink. At this thought, Evans shouted with laughter. “Gentlemen,” he said, when he could speak seriously, “I am ashamed to ask my horse to pull a little weight like that _on a test_--couldn’t two or three of you get on and ride?” Then Evans was _sure_ he saw a twinkle in True’s eye. A loud laugh greeted the proposal. “But, man, that there’s a dead lift!” expostulated the miller. “Well, mine’s a live horse,” Evans cried, with a grin. “Get on there! Justin Morgan’s waitin’ for to take you to drive!” From this day the young horse was called _Justin Morgan’s_. It was an easy transition to drop the possessive “s,” after a while, and call him “Justin Morgan.” With much hilarity three men climbed up on the log. By this time darkness had fallen and Master Chase ran to get his lanthorn, swinging it back and forth, as he returned. “Mind you don’t fall off,” Evans warned the men. “‘Something’ is about to ‘come’.” And “something” did! Justin Morgan’s horse gathered himself together, almost crouching, and waited for the word to start. When it was given, his chest-muscles strained, his wide nostrils were scarlet and dilated, and this scion of Arabia’s proud breed moved off as if inspired by Allah himself for an almost miraculous feat. The bystanders, craning their necks to see, ran alongside; the men, perched on the log, fell off as it rocked from side to side, and then the young horse paused for breath--or to recover his strength. Utter silence was over all. There was no jeering now. The second pull landed the log on the logway, and the amazed men broke into the wildest cheers ever heard at Chase’s Mill.[8] FOOTNOTES: [7] Morgan Horses, Linsley, page 133. [8] Morgan Horses, Linsley, page 137. CHAPTER XI. MORGAN TRIES CONCLUSIONS WITH THE COXCOMB AND HIS FRIENDS. After his triumph at Chase’s Mill, the Morgan and Evans often stopped there on their way home from work.