owly, the while he held his eyes turned away, as if he were
wholly absorbed in the vastness of the desert reaches. This was but a
mere feint, as Pat understood it, and yet he waited, curious to know the
outcome, still holding himself rigidly on guard. Closer came the gray,
closer still, until he was almost beside him. Pat heard the whistle of
his breath and saw the wild light in his eyes, and for an instant feared
him. Yet there was no attack. The gray calmly gained a point immediately
alongside and stopped, head to Pat's rump, separated from him by not
more than half his length. Yet he did not attack; but Pat did not relax.
And again they stood, end to end now and side by side, until Pat, coming
finally to think, against his better judgment, that this was, after all,
only a friendly advance, became less watchful. Then the blow fell. With
a shrill scream that chilled Pat's heart the gray leaped sideways with a
peculiar broadside lunge intended to hurl him off his feet. It was a
form of attack new to Pat, and therefore never known to his ancestors,
and before he could brace himself to meet it he found himself rolling
over and over frantically in the sand.

He sprang up, screaming with rage, while the gray was trampling him with
fiendish hoofs. He steadied himself, resisted the onslaught, took the
offensive himself. He lunged with bared teeth, sank them into yielding
flesh, and wheeled away quickly. But not fast enough. The gray slashed
his rump. He turned back, tore the gray's shoulder, wheeled sharply,
attacked with lightning heels, and darted away again. But again the gray
sprang upon him, ripped his rump a second time, and sprang off like a
fiend. Raging, vindictive, Pat hurtled after him, and snapped again and
again, drawing hot blood pungent of taste and smell, and then he leaped
aside. But not far enough. The gray dashed into him, enveloped him in a
whirlwind of clashing teeth and flashing heels, and wheeled away in a
wide circle, screaming to the heavens, leaving Pat, with a dozen
stinging wounds, dazed and exhausted.

But Pat was quick to recover himself. Also, he took council. Never had
he fought like this. His battle with the white horse had been
brief--brief because of sudden releasing of weeks of venom stored within
him by the white's continuous nagging, brief because of the white's
inability to spring from each attack in season to protect himself. But
no such sluggishness hampered this enemy, and he grimly r