"
"Exactly right, Mr. Farmer. I'm an officer in General Lee's army."
"Then I wuz right 'bout you needin' a horse with wings. An' I guess all
the men in your army need horses with wings. Don't be in such a tarnal
hurry. You're goin' to stay right up here with us, boarders, so to speak,
till the war is over."
Harry laughed.
"Kind of you," he said, "but here is the stable and do you open the stall
doors one by one, and let me see the horses. At the first sign of any
trick I pull the trigger."
"Well, as I don't like violence I'll show you the horses. Here's the
gray mare, five years old, swift but can't last long. This is old Rube,
nigh onto ten, mighty strong, but as balky as a Johnny Reb hisself.
Don't want him! No? Then I think that's about all."
"No it's not! You open that last stall door at once!"
The farmer made a wry face, and threw back the door with a slam. Harry
still covering the man with the pistol that couldn't go off, saw a
splendid bay horse about four years old.
"Holding out on me, were you?" he said. "Did you think a Confederate
officer could be fooled in that manner?"
"I reckon I oughtn't to have thought so. I've always heard that the
rebels had mighty good eyes for Yankee horseflesh.
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