On a night of brilliant
moonshine, he had watched through his glass while Alcatraz galloped
madly, tossing head and tail, and neighing at a low-swooping owl.
Great, foolish impulses came to Alcatraz; he might gather his mares
about him and lead them for ten miles at a terrific pace and with a
blind destination; he might leave them and scout far and wide, alone,
always at dizzy speed. As the hunter stayed longer by his puzzling
task, he began to wonder if this sprang from mere running instinct, or
knowledge that he must keep himself in the pink of condition. Like
a man, the preferences of Alcatraz were distinctly formed and well
expressed. He disliked the middle day and during this period sought a
combination of wind and shade. Only in the morning and in the evening
he ranged for pasture or for pleasure. Impulse still guided him. Now
and again he wandered to the eastern or the western mountains, then
far into the hot heart of the desert, then, with incredible boldness,
he doubled back to the well-watered lands of the Jordan ranch, leaped
a fence, followed by the mares to whom he had taught the art of
jumping, and fed fat under the very eye of his enemies.
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