“He has worked hard at the plow, most of his life, and he is not known in horse-books, but we Vermonters don’t take much interest in pedigrees. We say, ‘pretty is as pretty does’ and present merit is what we go by, Captain--not what his _ancestors_ did!” The Maryland gentleman laughed, seeing the point. “Blood speaks for itself, right here,” Captain Dulaney said. “I will wager my new sword that this horse has thoroughbred blood! So you see your argument about pedigree does not hold!” Morgan waved his tail slightly, in acknowledgment. “I like the animal,” added the Captain, in his quiet, pleasant way. “I would mount him, sir.” In ten minutes Morgan was accoutred in the military trappings and saddle of an officer of the United States Army. It was with a thrill that he felt the Captain throw his fine-dressed leg across his back and slip his cavalry-booted feet into the stirrups--all the while holding the reins in his masterful hand. A mutual confidence was awakened between the two that was to last always. Morgan, feeling as young as he did ten years before, cantered smoothly off, side-stepping just enough to give his rider something to do. Down the hill they went, the horse as sure-footed as a goat, feeling that he had never carried so dashing and gallant a rider nor so congenial a spirit, and right glad was he to respond to every gentle pressure of the bit or motion of the rein. At the turn of the trail they came to a stone fence. At his rider’s suggestion Morgan paused slightly, pulled himself together, rose in the air and cleared it. Over a rushing little stream he went in the same confident, bird-like way, galloping easily off as he touched the ground on the other side. The blue sky was reflected in the lake, and the mountains in New York pierced it, in reality, or reflection, with peaks of green and brown. The air was still and pure and the cool scent of the pines was strong in their nostrils. The haze of the morning had given place to a crystal clearness and Juniper Island was like a spot of precious jade set in a field of turquoise. They were on the way to the Falls at a smart gallop now, and what his rider intimated to the horse along the bridle-rein gave him courage and love combined with perfect understanding. At a convenient spot they stopped, and Captain Dulaney spoke aloud. “Ah, my fine fellow!” Morgan flicked his tail in reply, and tossed his mane slightly--with an up and down motion once or twice of his crest as was his habit when spoken to, directly--“Ah, my fine fellow, this air makes one breathe deeply. There’s no climate like it. No wonder these Vermonters are giants morally and physically. No wonder the Green Mountain Boys could take Ticonderoga! A handful of men bred in this air are worth all the city-bred officers in the British Army. And forsooth, they proved it! Ha! Ha! If it comes to an attack by water from Canada on the lake, here, we have a superabundance of trained officers and men.”