Long famines of winter, hot
deserts in summer, changed their appearance. Their heads grew lumpier,
their necks more scraggy, their croups more slanting, their legs shorter;
but their hoofs grew denser, hardier, their shorter coupling gave them
greater weight-carrying possibilities, the stout bones and the clean lines
of their legs meant speed, and above all they kept the stout heart of the
thoroughbred and they gained more than this, an indomitable, bulldog
persistence. The cheapest Western cow-pony may look like the cartoon of a
horse, but he has points which a judge will note, and he will run a picture
horse to death in three days.
Such were the horses which took the trail of Satan and they were chosen
specimens of their kind. Up the slope they stormed and there went Satan
skimming across the hollow beneath them. Their blood was his blood, their
courage his courage, their endurance his endurance. The difference between
them was the difference between the factory machine and the hand made work
of art. From his pasterns to his withers, from his hoofs to his croup every
muscle was perfectly designed and perfectly placed for speed, tireless
running; every bone was the maximum of lightness and strength combined.
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