Fists were brandished toward
the green covert on the farther side of the river, so close, such an
unreachable distance. One or two rode their horses down to the very edge of
the water, but they gave up the thought and the whole troop turned back
toward Wilsonville; even the horses were down-headed.
Back in the covert he found Bart lying with his head on his paws, his eyes
closed, his sides swelling and closing till every rib seemed broken; yet
now and then he opened one red eye to look at Satan. The stallion lay in
almost exactly the same position, and the rush and rattle of his breathing
was audible even in the noise of the Asper; Barry dropped prone and pressed
his ear against the left side of the horse, just behind the shoulder. The
fierce vibration fairly shook his head; he could hear the rush of the blood
except when that deadly rattling of the breath came. When he rose to his
knees the face of the master was serious, thoughtful.
"Satan!" he called, but the river must have drowned his voice. Only when he
passed his fingers down the wet neck, one of Satan's ears pricked, and fell
instantly back.
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