Jenny: Horsefeathers

Kay let his whip fly from his hand, cracking and hissing along the ground as he walked. One mare standing close by on the inside of the paddock spooked, then recovered and stamped pettishly at him. He laughed at her - for, like all girls, they so hated to be laughed at - and she jerked up her head and gave him the whites of one eye, frowningly. The black stockwhip leapt to coil up in his hand again, and he leaned on the fence, looking back at her unwaveringly. She kept up the gaze for awhile until his presence grew tiresome, and she trotted away to join the others at the water-trough. Kay sighed and pushed off from the fence, but stopped as he spotted a new fellow leaning likewise and looking at the horses. Twisting his mouth into a thoughtful grimace, he sidled close. He had seen the fellow once before, and had passed him off as one of the Fox's men. But the Fox was gone north again - not being one to stay in one place long, that man - and Kay had yet to learn if he should like the eye the new fellow was running over the mares.

He lounged against a post just at the fellow's elbow, nodding in a friendly way, then followed the other's gaze. "Fine mares, aren't they?" he murmured, shifting to a more comfortable position. "It's the Lybian in them. You won't find pretty legs or shapely bodies like that on the Island, not naturally. You have to bring in the Oriental blood. They come from naturally hardy dams and sires, crossed with Arab and native strains - it makes for a good sturdy stock that can show a pretty set of heels and turns out a good disposition."

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