A scrawny colt,
escaping from the heels of a yearling floundered against him. Alcatraz
gave way to the little fellow and warned the yearling back with a savage
baring of his teeth and a shake of his head. The foal, with head cocked
upon one side, regarded its protector with impish curiosity and was in
the act of nibbling at the flowing mane of the stallion when Alcatraz
heard a sharp humming as of a wasp; then the sound of a blow, and the
foal leaped straight into the air with head flung back. Before it hit
water a report as of a hammer falling on anvil burst across the level
pond, and then the colt struck heavily on its side, dead.
That bullet had been aimed for the tall leader and only the lifting of
the foal's head had saved Alcatraz. He recognized the report of a rifle
and whirled from the water-edge, signalling his company with a short
neigh of fear; the arch enemy was upon them! A volley poured in.
Alcatraz, as he gained the shore, saw an old stallion double up with a
scream of pain and no sound is so terrible as the shriek of a tortured
horse. No sound is so terrible even to horses. It threw the leader into
an hysteria of panic. Others of the herd were falling or staggering in
the lake; the remnant rushed up the slope and over the sheltering crest
of the hill beyond.
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