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 Shenandoah Valley and it was brave old Palo'mine who had saved the day.

Meanwhile, the faithful horse stood by the roadside where the General had left him. His head was down, he was panting and gasping for breath, he was as wet as a drowned rat and white with lather and foam. His sides were streaked with blood where the General's spurs had pricked him. Three troopers who were riding by stopped to look at him.

"Godfrey, Bill," said the first. "That horse is done for. Some fool has ridden him to death. He will be so foundered that he won't be worth a dollar."

"Guess you're right," returned Bill. "If he was mine, I'd pull off his shoes and feed him to the crows."

"You fellows has both of you got another guess coming," said the third trooper. "I hail from old Kentuck' and ef I know a Kentucky thoroughbred when I see one, he is that kind of a hoss. I've often seen hunters blown as badly as that in a fox