the dust thrown up by the little gray ahead,
in the sun's rays slanting into his eyes from the
west, in the scorching, blistering heat of this
same ruthless orb beating down upon his back.
Suddenly, cost him what it would, he dropped
out of the fox-trot into a walk, prepared to fight
for this change of stride to the last breath.

He did not hold to it, however, even though
his master, curiously enough, permitted him the
change. Pride asserted itself, and after a time,
of his own volition, finding the gap between himself
and the others much too wide to please him,
he broke into a canter and quickly closed the gap,
crowding back into his place between the other
two horses. That was all of rebellion, though
the mood still remained. Bitter, disappointed,
nervous, and irritable, he continued forward, wanting
things -- wanting food and water, wanting
sounds of voices, wanting a respite from this
unnerving grind. But he made no effort to get them
or to show that he wanted them. And he knew
why he maintained this attitude of meek acceptance.
He was too weak to enforce his demands.
He knew that it required energy to buck
and pitch, and he knew that he lacked this energy.
So he continued along in sullen resignation until,
accepting the hint of his instincts, he closed
his eyes. This brought relief, and after a time,
his movements becoming ever more mechanical,
he found himself adrift upon a peaceful sea of
semi-coma, oblivious to all trouble -- hunger pangs,
thirst, weariness. When he returned to full con-

[[167]]

p166 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p167w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p168

v?