Strange
power was in that voice to enter the ears of the stallion and find a
way to his heart of hearts. The fierce and joyous battle-note which he
had heard on the day of the great fight was gone and in its place was
a fiber of piercing gentleness. It thrilled Alcatraz as the touch of
the man's fingers had thrilled him on another day.
Now he was very near, yet Perris did not hurry, did not change the
quiet of his words. By the nearness his face was become the dominant
thing. What was there between the mountains so terrible and so gentle,
so full of awe, of wisdom, and of beauty, as this human face? Behind
the eyes the outlaw horse saw the workings of that mystery which had
haunted his still evenings in the desert--the mind.
Far away the grey mare was neighing plaintively and the scared cowpony
trailed in the distance wondering why these free creatures should come
so close to man, the enslaver; but to Alcatraz the herd was no more
than a growth of trees; nothing existed under the sky saving that hand
ceaselessly outstretched towards him, and the steady murmur of the
voice.
He began to wonder: what would happen if he waited until the finger
tips were within a hair's-breadth of his nose? Surely there would be
no danger, for even if the Great Enemy slid onto his back again he
could not stay, weak as Red Perris now was.
Pages:
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298