walked beside him. At night they took shelter in any stable that was
handy. Tim invested in a bridle and saddle blanket. Also he bought oats
and hay for Chieftain. The big Norman followed his own will, stopping to
graze by the roadside whenever he wished. Together they drank from
brooks and springs. Between them was perfect comradeship. Each was in
holiday mood and each enjoyed the outing to the fullest. As they passed
through towns they attracted no little attention, for outside of the
city 2,000-pound horses are seldom seen, and there were many admirers
of Chieftain's splendid proportions. Tim had many offers from shrewd
horse-dealers.

"Ye would, eh? A whole hundred dollars!" Tim would answer with fine
sarcasm. "Now, wouldn't that be too much, don't ye think? My, my, what a
generous mon it is! G'wan, Chieftain, er Mister Car-na-gy here'll be
after givin' us a lib'ry."

Chieftain, and Tim, too, for that matter, were nearer actual freedom
than ever before. For years the big Norman had used his magnificent
muscles only for straining at the traces. He had trod only the hard
pavements. Now, he put forth his glorious strength at leisure, moving
along the pleasant country roads at his own gait, and being guided only
when a turning was to be made.

Fine as it all was, however, as they drew near to the city both horse
and driver became eager to reach their old quarters. Tim was, for he has
said so. As for Chieftain--let the stable-boss, who knows horse-nature
better than most men know themselves, tell that part of the story.

"Bigger lunatics than them two, Tim Doyle and old Chieftain, I never set
eyes on," he says. "I was standin' down here by the double doors
watchin' some of the day-teams unhook when I looks up the street on a
sudden. An' there, tail an' head up like he was a 'leven-hundred-pound
Kentucky hunter 'stead of heavy-weight draught, comes that old
Chieftain, a whinnyin' like a three-year-old. An' on his back, mind you,
old Tim Doyle, grinnin' away 'sif he was Tod Sloan finishin' first at
the Brooklyn Handicap. Tickled? I never see a horse show anything so
plain in all my life. He just streaked it up that runway and into his
old stall like he was a prodigal son come back from furren parts.

"Yes, Tim he's out on the truck with his old team. Tim don't have to
drive nowadays, you know. Brother of his that was in the contractin'
business died about three months ago an' left Tim quite a pile. Tim, he
says he g