the delicious water, or rolling himself upon the soft grass
of the margin. Sometimes, too (but Pegasus was very dainty in his
food), he would crop a few of the clover-blossoms that happened to be
sweetest.

To the Fountain of Pirene, therefore, people's great-grandfathers had
been in the habit of going (as long as they were youthful, and
retained their faith in winged horses), in hopes of getting a glimpse
at the beautiful Pegasus. But, of late years, he had been very seldom
seen. Indeed, there were many of the country folks, dwelling within
half an hour's walk of the fountain, who had never beheld Pegasus, and
did not believe that there was any such creature in existence. The
country fellow to whom Bellerophon was speaking chanced to be one of
those incredulous persons.

And that was the reason why he laughed.

"Pegasus, indeed!" cried he, turning up his nose as high as such a
flat nose could be turned up,--"Pegasus, indeed! A winged horse,
truly! Why, friend, are you in your senses? Of what use would wings
be to a horse? Could he drag the plow so well, think you? To be sure,
there might be a little saving in the expense of shoes; but then, how
would a man like to see his horse flying out of the stable
window?--yes, or whisking up him above the clouds, when he only wanted
to ride to mill? No, no! I don't believe in Pegasus. There never was
such a ridiculous kind of a horse-fowl made!"

"I have some reason to think otherwise," said Bellerophon, quietly.

And then he turned to an old, gray man, who was leaning on a staff,
and listening very attentively, with his head stretched forward, and
one hand at his ear, because, for the last twenty years, he had been
getting rather deaf.

"And what say you, venerable sir?" inquired he. "In your younger days,
I should imagine, you must frequently have seen the winged steed!"

"Ah, young stranger, my memory is very poor!" said the aged man. "When
I was a lad, if I remember rightly, I used to believe there was such a
horse, and so did everybody else. But, nowadays, I hardly know what to
think, and very seldom think about the winged horse at all. If I ever
saw the creature, it was a long, long while ago; and, to tell you the
truth, I doubt whether I ever did see him. One day, to be sure, when I
was quite a youth, I remember seeing some hoof-tramps round about the
brink of the fountain. Pegasus might have made those hoof-marks; and
so might some other horse."

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