They said when it came to pure speed, Keg-O-Sass was a horse which some believed could fly.

They said the only man who knew the truth was the only man to ride the horse, the old Greek, Bellerophon.

I was warned to be careful. Bellerophon had gone mean, turned hermit, was nearly blind, lame and didn't welcome guests. They said he lived in the high country, across Green Valley, up where the Corinth River starts.

I rode out early, hoping to find him before dark. I did.

"Don't go no farther," he growled. It took me a second to site him among the trees, but when I did, my blood ran cold. He was darkly tanned, bent and twisted, but with the look of no fear and tremendous strength. He cocked his head so his blind eye was away from me, and he hissed, "What do you want?"

"I want to know about Keg-O-Sass," I replied rather weakly. I stepped down from my horse and started to lead him toward the bulky figure.

"He could fly," he bellowed raising his arms and his voice toward heaven. Then he turned toward me and ordered, "Stay right where you are."

I didn't move. I didn't say anything, nor did he. We just stared at each other. Finally, he asked,"Got coffee?" I said I did, and he told me to start a fire, boil the coffee. I went to work immediately and just before the coffee was ready, he appeared beside me. He sat down on his heels like old cowboys do, and rolled himself a cigarette and accepted my coffee.

"Keg-O-Sass was so named cause that's what he was. Saucy, nasty, untamed, and for I know, untamable. He was a keg of sassiness."

"But you rode him to fame on the...."

He cut me off short, "Don't get ahead of yourself boy, I'll tell the story." I believe he almost smiled just then.

"Born of Medusa," he continued. "Fool mare ate loco weed and half believed she was covered with snakes. Course, I never really knew her. Died foaling Keg-O-Sass. He was of her body and her blood, and just as crazy."

He started telling me about his youth, riding herd as a cowboy and riding at the local rodeos. I wanted him to get on with the story so I asked, "Could Keg-O-Sass fly?"

"That he could, son, that he could. Nearly carried me to heaven." I swear he did smile then.

"I was ridin' rodeo. Needed a faster horse for calf roping if I was going to win the championship. I was told there was a woman named Minerva had a horse could fly." He stopped talking and held out his empty cup. I filled it. "Where was I?" he shook his head. "Oh, yeah, Minerva, didn't want to sell the horse, but she finally consented to let me ride the horse at ropins.

"She gave me a special bit, said the horse couldn't be ridden without it.

"I took Keg-O-Sass to Cheyenne and won it all. Nobody could believe how fast that hoss was. Winged, he was, they said.

"Well, I kept ridin' Keg-O-Sass and I kept winning'. Wasn't hardly anything I couldn't do when I was on that hoss. I was the all-around champion. I couldn't be beat." Bellerophon was smiling now for sure.

"Some people say I got too smart for my own good," he continued. Some said I was lettin' my pride ride because I didn't use his special bit the day it happened.

"But I knew it wasn't nothin' but a freak accident. Hoss fly bit that keg of dynamite just as I was standin' up to throw my loop. He broke in two. Threw me into the ground so hard I busted nearly every bone. Went blind in this eye a week later.

"Hoss went wild, ran off from the wreck and has been flyin' through these hills ever since." He threw out what little coffee was left in his cup, and with the help of a sappling staff, pulled himself to his feet. He was gone before I got the fire out.

As I stepped up on my horse I was thinking how so many people still remember the flying horse and his name, but how few remember his rider.

Well, I thought to myself, a lot of horses are better remembered than the men their carried, and, besides, there is no official record of Bellerophon's claimed championships.

The whole story is probably just a cowboy myth.