Sometimes, of course, he misread her intentions and
swerved across her head and on each of these occasions she reached out
and nipped him shrewdly. Alcatraz was too taken up in his wonder at the
actions of the herd to resent this insolence. For half an hour they kept
up the steady pace and then Alcatraz literally ran into the reason.
It was a beautiful little lake, bedded in hard gravel and maintained by
a dribble of water from a brook on the north shore. Alcatraz snorted in
disgust at his folly. What had disturbed them was exactly what had
disturbed him--thirst. He controlled his own desire for water, however,
and followed an instinct that made him draw back and wait until all the
rest--the oldest stallion and the youngest colt--had waded in and
plunged their noses deep in the water. Then he went to the lake edge a
little apart from the rest and drank with his reflection glistening
beneath him.
It was a time of utter peace for the chestnut. While he drank he watched
the line of images broken by the small waves in the lake and listened to
the foals which had only tasted the water and now were splashing it
about with their upper lips. For his own part he did not drink too much,
since much water in the belly makes a leaden burden and Alcatraz felt
that, as leader, he must always be ready for running.
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