the time at cards, he was sent forward again along
the ever-mysterious trail. And thus he moved,
through the long hot afternoon, the cool and lingering
twilight, on to a night camp where once
more he was turned loose with the other horses
to glean as best he might life-giving sustenance
from the scant herbage. But it was drearily
monotonous.

Throughout it all, however, there was one who
kept his interest alive. It was the white horse.
In the camp holding himself aloof, as if superciliously
refraining from close contact, on the trail this
horse took to revealing his antagonism. He would
stand a short way from him while they grazed,
lay back his ears and whisk his tail, and, whenever
the chance came, he would snap viciously
at the other horses. Pat understood the meaning
of all this, and held himself ready to resist
attack, yet he simply looked at the horse with a
kind of amused speculation. Nor at any time did
he feel grave apprehension. That he did not take
the horse seriously lay in the fact that after
drawing near in this fashion and bristling nastily
the white horse would quickly draw away again,
steadily and craftily, and then fall to worrying
one of the other horses, usually one of smaller
size that quite obviously feared him.

There came the time when the white did not
confine his threatenings to the grazing-periods.
He became aggressive on the march. Though less
free to give battle here, which was possibly his
reason, he would frequently jockey close, and either

[[212]]

p211 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p212w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p213

v?