uarterhorse, an' stay till the cows
come home; but he's like Lauzanne acrost yonder, he's got a bee in his
bonnet an' it takes a divil to ride him."

"That's hard on me, Mike," expostulated Allis. "You see, Lauzanne goes
better with me in the saddle than any of the boys," she explained to
Mortimer.

"The divil or angels, I was going to say, Miss, when ye interrupted me,"
gallantly responded Mike.

Diablo's head was tied high in a corner of the stall, for Shandy, the
boy, was hard at work on him with a double hand of straw, rubbing him
down. The boy kept up a peculiar whistling noise through his parted lips
as he rubbed, and Diablo snapped impatiently at the halter-shank with
his great white teeth as though he resented the operation.

Mortimer gazed with enthusiasm at the shining black skin that glistened
like satin, or watered silk. Surely there was excuse for people loving
thoroughbreds. It was an exhilaration even to look at that embodiment
of physical development. It was an animate statue to the excellence
of good, clean living. Somehow or other Mortimer felt that though the
living creature before him was only a horse, yet nature's laws were
being adhered to, and the result was a reward of physical perfection and
enjoyment of life. He began to feel that a man, or even a woman--it was
the subtle presence of the woman at his side that made him involuntarily
interject this clause into his inaudible thoughts--yes, even a woman
of high moral attributes might find the most healthy form of interested
amusement in watching the superb development of horses that were
destined for no other purpose than to race and beget sons and daughters
of the same wondrous stamina and courage and speed. His detestation of
racing had been in reality an untutored prejudice; he had looked upon
but one phase of the question, and that quite casually, as it introduced
itself into his life by means of sensational betting incidents in the
daily papers. To him all forms of betting were highly disastrous--most
immoral. But here, like a revelation, came to him, in all its
fascination, the perfect picture of the animal, which he was forced to
admit stood next to man in its adornment of God's scheme of creation.

As Shandy swept his wisp of straw along the sensitive skin of Diablo's
stomach, the latter shrunk from the tickling sensation, and lashed out
impatiently with a powerful hind leg as though he would demolish his
tormentor.

"He's not cross