ked across it one
of its doors opened and a very little, wizened old man emerged leading a
horse. He tied the animal to a ring in the wall and proceeded at once to
currying.

I had been in Arizona for ten years. During that time I had seen a great
many very fine native horses, for the stock of that country is directly
descended from the barbs of the _conquistadores_. But, though often well
formed and as tough and useful as horseflesh is made, they were small.
And no man thought of refinements in caring for any one of his numerous
mounts. They went shaggy or smooth according to the season; and not one
of them could have called a curry comb or brush out of its name.

The beast from which the wizened old man stripped a _bona fide_ horse
blanket was none of these. He stood a good sixteen hands; his head was
small and clean cut with large, intelligent eyes and little, well-set
ears; his long, muscular shoulders sloped forward as shoulders should;
his barrel was long and deep and well ribbed up; his back was flat and
straight; his legs were clean and--what was rarely seen in the cow
country--well proportioned--the cannon bone shorter than the leg bone,
the ankle sloping and long and elastic--in short, a magnificent creature
whose points of excellence appeared one by one under close scrutiny.
And the high lights of his glossy coat flashed in the sun like water.

I walked from one side to the other of him marvelling. Not a defect, not
even a blemish could I discover. The animal was fairly a perfect
specimen of horseflesh. And I could not help speculating as to its use.
Old Man Hooper had certainly never appeared with it in public; the fame
of such a beast would have spread the breadth of the country.

During my inspection the wizened little man continued his work without
even a glance in my direction. He had on riding breeches and leather
gaiters, a plaid waistcoat and a peaked cap; which, when you think of
it, was to Arizona about as incongruous as the horse. I made several
conventional remarks of admiration, to which he paid not the slightest
attention. But I know a bait.

"I suppose you claim him as a Morgan," said I.

"Claim, is it!" grunted the little man, contemptuously.

"Well, the Morgan is not a real breed, anyway," I persisted. "A
sixty-fourth blood will get one registered. What does that amount to?"

The little man grunted again.

"Besides, though your animal is a good one, he is too short and straight
in t