“You!” he said with a quick catch of his breath, as the littler colt came over and gazed curious-eyed at him. They peered over the fence with a lively look, and his tongue wet his dry lips. Everything about him looked dry and parched. His stubbly hair was straw-colored, like a cut-over field of wheat. The boy’s blue linsey-woolsey shirt was faded and torn, and his breeches, held up by a strip of cowhide, were gray with dust. His was an urgent desire to get close to the colts. The boy leaned against the fence too, but not from weariness. As he reached the fence, he rested his arms on the top rail and his whole body seemed to go limp. Wearily, wearily the man’s steps dragged. Now he, too, knew that strangers were coming up the road. Then his ears pricked as he caught the sound of booted feet walking slowly, and of bare feet running. He trotted over to the little colt, touching noses with him. He alerted so suddenly it seemed as if his name had been called out. Instantly a bigger colt, scratching at a green-head fly, alerted. They must have journeyed a long way, for their man-smell was almost blotted by dust. His nostrils fluttering, he sniffed again. He lifted his head high and sniffed the noonday wind. THE LITTLE reddish-brown colt stopped nibbling grass.
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