She
knew him only from a distance whereas had not Alcatraz breathed that
dreaded scent close at hand? Had he not on one unforgetable occasion
felt the soft flesh turn to pulp beneath his stamping feet, and heard
the breaking of bones? His nostrils distended at the memory and again
he searched the lowlands.
No, there was not a shadow of a place where man might be concealed and
that scent could be nothing but a snare and an illusion. To be sure
there were other ways hardly less convenient to the waterhole, but why
should he be turned from the easiest way day after day because of this
unbodied warning? He started down the slope.
It brought the grey after him, neighing wildly, but though she circled
around him at full speed time after time, he would not pause, and when
she attempted to block him he raised his head and pushed her away with
the resistless urge of breast and shoulders. At that she attempted no
more forceful persuasion but fell in behind him, still pausing from
time to time to send her mournfully persuasive whinny after the
obdurate leader until even the bays, usually so blindly docile, grew
alarmed and fell back to a huddled grouping half way between Alcatraz
and the trailing grey.
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