Before he could plan his next move the black was at
him again. This time they reared together, met
with a clash of teeth and rapid beat of hoofs, and
parted on equal terms. Alcatraz eyed his enemy
with a fierce respect. His head was dull and
ringing with the blows; his shoulder had been slightly
cut by a glancing forehoof. Decidedly he could
not meet the brawn of this hardened old warrior on
such terms. He had used up one trick, he must
find another, and still another; and when the black
rushed again, Alcatraz slipped away from the contact
and raced off at his matchless gallop. The other
pursued a short distance and stopped, sounding his
defiance and his triumph. As well follow the wind
as the chestnut stranger. Besides, the blood
was pouring from the gash in his shoulder and that
foreleg was growing weak; it was well that the battle
had ended at this point.
But it was not ended! Flight was not in the mind
of Alcatraz as he swept away. He ran in dodging
circles about the enemy, swerving in and then veering
sharply out as the black reared to meet the expected
charge. Whatever else was accomplished, he had
gained the initiative and that plus his lightness
of foot might bring matters to a decisive issue in
his favor. Twice he made his rush; twice the black
turned and met him with that shower of crushing blows
with the fore hoofs. But the third time a feint
at one side and a charge at the other took the leader
unawares. Fair and true the shoulder of Alcatraz
struck him on the side and the impact flung the black
heavily to the earth. The shock had staggered
even Alcatraz but he was at the other like a savage
terrier. Thrice he stamped across that struggling
body until the black lay motionless with his coat
crimson from twenty slashes. Then Alcatraz drew
away and neighed his triumph, and in his exultation
he noted that the herd drew close together at his
call.
Why, he could not imagine, and he had no time to ponder
on it, for the black was now struggling to his feet.
But there was no fight left in him. He stood
dazed, with fallen head, and to the challenge of the
chestnut he replied by not so much as the pricking
of his flagging ears.
The grey mare went to him, touched noses with her
overlord, and then backed away, shaking her head.
Presently she trotted past Alcatraz, flung up her
heels within an inch of his head, and then galloped
on towards the herd looking back at the conqueror.
Oh vanity of the weaker sex; oh frailty! She
had seen her master crushed and within the minute
she was flirting with the conqueror.
The herd started off as the grey joined them and Alcatraz
followed; the black leader remaining unmoving and
the blood dripped steadily down his legs.
