One day the colt invented a game which he called “Chasing the Red-Coat,” and fine fun it was, to be sure! With one accord the calves and True made Caesar the “Red-Coat” because he was such a fleet runner! That Caesar did not think much of the game was obvious as he dashed wildly at a tree and running up its trunk sat spluttering at them, his fur on end, his tail straight in the air. Being interrupted by Silas,--for daily exercise and practise in the arts of being bitted and led about--never annoyed the colt. The calves and Caesar watched these performances, furtively, and wondered when their turns would come; True always told them the fun he had and took care to mention the subsequent reward of maple sugar. For a short time a gentle pigeon came and sat between the young horse’s ears and cooed, softly, whilst he munched at his manger. This was agreeable to the sociable colt, but he was puzzled to notice that the bird did not like his other friend, the cat. True could see how tactfully Caesar tried to win the affections of the pigeon, even reaching out a paw to pat him sometimes. One day his feathered friend did not come to the stable at the usual time and when the cat sauntered in that afternoon, with a look of keen content on his face, and a feather in his whiskers, True asked if he had seen the pigeon. Caesar had not, of course! He added, however, as he placidly washed the feather from his face, that “birds often flew away and did not return!” His expression was so sincere and sympathetic that the colt was no little comforted. In spite of this treachery, Caesar was really fond of True, and brought him, from time to time, tokens of his affection in the way of delicacies--rats and mice he had caught in his stealthy rounds--sometimes a chicken’s foot or a fish’s head from the kitchen. It was difficult for True to refuse these cat-dainties without hurting Caesar’s feelings, until he hit upon the clever expedient of pulling out a mouthful of delicious fodder from his rack and offering it in his turn to the cat! One day the colt boasted to the cat that he “could see in the dark.” Caesar purred, contemptuously, washing his face the while. “That, my friend,” he said, “is a mere trifle, hardly worth bragging about! Now, if you could but speak the human language, then, indeed, would I wave my tail and meow, ‘Hail, Master!’” True was abashed, but said: “Nay, my mother says speech is but a vain and doubtful good, especially in women!” To this sally the cat had no reply, both he and Gipsey had known women better than the yearling True.