All he felt was that there was something
charmingly remembered, something half familiar about them. The boldest
came near and he touched noses, whereat she whirled with a little squeal
and lashed out at him; but her heels were carefully aimed wide of the
mark and Alcatraz merely tossed his nose; plainly she was a flirt. He
pressed a little closer to the fence and urged friendliness with a
conversational whinny. They were not averse, coming towards him with
eyes that glimmered in the darkness, retreating often and coming on
again, until he had touched noses with them all. It was extremely
pleasant to Alcatraz and hardly less so because the grey mare came and
shouldered him rudely.
Then a voice spoke from the barn which opened off the corral: "What's
all that damned nonsense with the mares yonder?"
Alcatraz crouched for flight. Another voice answered: "They'll mill
around every night for a while till they get used to the new place.
That's the way with them crazy hot-bloods. No hoss-sense."
The voices departed. The shrinking of the stallion had made the mares
wince away in turn, but they came back now and resumed the conversation
where it had been broken off.
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