Alcatraz came back to his
companions at a halting trot which denoted his uneasy alertness. They
were milling more closely than ever. The brood mares had passed to a
sullen nervousness and were kicking savagely at everything that came
near. Decidedly something was wrong. The wise-headed grey mare loped out
to meet him and threw a course of circles around him as he came slowly
forward. Plainly she expected him to do something, but what this might
be Alcatraz could not tell. Besides, a growing thirst was making him
irritable and the insistence of the grey mare made him wish to fasten
his teeth over the back of her neck and shake her into better behavior.
By her antics she had worked him around to the head of the herd and she
had no sooner reached this point than she threw up her head with a
shrill neigh and started off at a gallop. The entire herd rushed after
her and Alcatraz, in a bound, ranged along side the grey and a neck in
the lead. While he ran he whinnied a soft question to which she replied
with a toss of her head as though impatient at such ignorance. In
reality she was guiding the herd. She knew it and Alcatraz understood
her knowledge, but he made a show of maintaining the guidance, keeping a
sharp outlook and turning the moment she showed signs of veering in a
new direction.
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