"I did not," answered the surly groom.
"Tell me the truth," said the doctor in a voice that made every word sound like the crack of a rifle.
"What do you take me for?" asked the stableman, trying to appear indignant and innocent.
"You're a l-l-liar, and I am in no mood for trifling. Out with it, you scoundrel!" he cried, seizing him by the throat.
With a sign of terror the groom indicated his readiness to come to terms, and the doctor relaxed his grip.
Still trembling, he told the truth.
"Do you know which road they took?"
He waved his hand toward Kentucky.
"Put a saddle on Hamlet—no, on Romeo," he ordered, tersely.
The groom entered a box stall and led out the black beauty. The doctor glanced him over and smiled. And well he might, for every muscle, every motion betokened speed, intelligence, endurance.