was a fine, young chestnut gelding with a Roman nose and long, mulish ears. His head was not beautiful to see from any angle, but Andrew saw only the long, powerful, sloping shoulders, the long neck, burdened by no spare flesh, the legs fine-drawn as hammered bronze, and appearing fully as strong. Every detail of the body spelled speed, and speed meant safety. From the famous gray stallion of Hal Dozier this gelding could never escape, Andrew knew, but the chestnut could undoubtedly distance any posse which had no greater speed than the pace of its slowest horse. And he saw with pleasure, too, the deep chest and the belly not too finely drawn. That chest meant staying powers, and that stomach meant a horse which would not be "ganted" in a few days of hard work.
What wonder, then, that Andrew began to see the world through a bright mist? What wonder that when he had finished his breakfast he sang while he roped the chestnut, built the pack behind the saddle, and filled the saddlebags. When he was in the saddle, the gelding took at once the cattle path with a long and easy canter that did the heart of the young rider good. He gave the chestnut a mile of that pace. Then he shook him out into a small gallop; then he sent him into a headlong racing pace for a quarter of a mile. That done, he reined in the horse to a lope again and, leaning far over, he listened. The breath of the gelding came in deep puffs, but it whistled down as cleanly as if he had just had a canter across the pasture. Andrew nodded in satisfaction.
With his head cleared by sleep, his muscles and nerves relaxed, his heart made strong by the gifts of the outlaws, Andrew began to plan his escape with more calm deliberation than before.
