Theodore Goodridge Roberts

“ Tom and I set out after an early supper, in the buggy, with brandy in our flasks and blankets under the seat, in case we should find old Ruben by the wayside. In the shafts was Young Bill. I have known many tall horses and many silly horses, but never any other one horse so tall and so silly as Young Bill. But he always meant well, did Young Bill. There was Clyde in him, quite obviously, and a plumping strain of Percheron, I suspect, and a dash of rocking-horse and some saw-horse. What else, I cannot imagine; but Tom spoke vaguely of Morgan blood. Tom thought him a wonder; and Tom was right. ”

“ Sol had looked so tired after harnessing him that I believe he must have had to stretch each piece of harness in turn to get it on.
"Hope he don't grow no more," Sol had said.
"I like a big horse," Tom had replied. "Saw too many stunted ones in the tropics. Rats."
Young Bill walked on his toes for half a mile, cocking his ears and looking all around as if for applause. Next, he jogged on the flat of his feet, and the buggy rocked and creaked. ”

“ We searched the barns again, the hay-mows, the oat-bins, the sheep shed, the pig and poultry houses, even the empty root-cellars. Not a sign. Sol suggested that he may have jumped into the creek to cool his fever ”