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Bucephalus Slave whose service seems ordained: his back just fits the shape of saddles, his mouth molded to fit a bit, height enough to serve as watchtower for a cowboy. Strength enough to drag a plough or prance before a two-wheeled cart, or, teamed with others, haul a heavy load of stones or logs or hay or ice. Bred to massive size, war-horse carried added weight of armored warrior, served no other use until circus riders vaulted on his ample back. No longer now a farmer's friend, but can a motor car take you drowsing unguided by a rein? Bucephalus could.
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