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Our horses have never known fear and so we can do almost anything with them. Shashai, Star, come and make love to Missie." As one the two beautiful creatures came to the seat and laid their soft muzzles upon Peggy's shoulders.
The Senator was blowing like a grampus; Jack-o'-Lantern's bit was foam-flecked and Natalie's pretty little "Madam Goldie" looked fagged. Mrs. Vincent instantly contrasted the condition of Shashai and Star with the others. Yet Peggy and Polly had been riding like Valkyrie.
Peggy, make Shashai and Star talk to you. I'd do it, only I'd sort of feel as though I were taking the wind out of your sails. You are the teacher and I'm only your pupil." "Do you really wish me to show you something of their intelligence, Mrs. Vincent? I feel sort of foolish as though I were trying to show off, you know."
The little negro boy handed her the light racing saddle; a very featherweight of a saddle. "Steady, Shashai." The colt stood like a statue expecting the girl as usual to spring upon his back. Instead she placed upon it a stiff, leather affair which puzzled him not a little, and from which dangled two curious contrivances.
Shashai boasted the same blood as Silver Star, and was every bit as intelligent as his older brother. Moreover he had no mind to give up his treasure-trove. He knew that little bag and its contents too well and was minded to carry it to the end of the paddock and there rend and tear it, until its contents were spilled and he could eat his companions' share as well as his own.
Yo' mistiss 'll tell yo' dat," admonished Jess, as Shashai reached forward and plucked his cap from his head. "Yo' gimme dat cap, yo' hyer me!" But Shashai's teeth held it firmly as he tossed it playfully up and down, to Jess' secret delight in his pet's cleverness, though he outwardly affected strong disapproval, after the manner of his race.
Dey done come t'arin' back yonder ter de stable an' dey cotch holt ob my sleefs wid dey teefs, and dey yank and tug me 'long outen de do'. Den dis hyer Shashai, he stan' lak a statyer twell I hike me up on his back, den he kite away like de bery debbil axes yo' pardon, ma'am! an' hyer we-all is. Dat's all de how dar is ob it. Dey knows what folks 'specs ob 'em. Dey's eddicated hawses.
When Shashai and Silver Star arrived upon the scene, manes and forelocks long and silky as a girl's hair, tails almost sweeping the ground and flowing free, poor Dawson nearly died of outraged conventions, though he was forced to admit that the Columbia Heights stables held no horseflesh to compare with these thoroughbreds. "But oh, my 'eart, look at that mess o' 'air and mind their paces.
"Well, you know now. How far ahead do you reckon they are?" "Quarter mile beyond that turn if the horse ain't fell dead. Let me break away, overhaul them and then you two come in at the death," he laughed. Shelby was riding Shashai, and at his word a black streak passed out of sight around the bend of the boulevard. Star and Columbine chafed to follow, but their riders held them back for a time.
Shashai tossed his head partly in nervous irritation at the creaking saddle, partly in the joy of motion, and joy won the day. Then Peggy began to draw slightly upon her reins. The colt shook his head impatiently as though asking: "Wherefor the need? I know exactly where you wish to go." "Oh, my bonny one, my bonny one, that is just it!
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