My quest of the Arab horse by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Arabian horse
Publisher: New York : B.W. Dodge & Company
Published: 1909-03-25T05:00:00+00:00

We followed Sheikh Ali and Akmet Haffez across the plains for miles. We saw a rab-

MY QUEST OF THE ARAB HORSE

bit; it was the dog's first, and he fell over a clod in his initial race. He came back to the shadow of the horse, and there ambled along in a dignified way. Astride the best horse in the desert, and protected by the best puppy in the world, I was much elated. We flushed some francolins, beautiful birds, but he was too important to be a bird dog. He was marching among horses and men and camels. He was the only dog in the caravan and at every mile he seemed to realize the fact more. He was avoiding the camel thistles as best he could, but while more francolins went up and his attention was on them for a moment he got a nasty burr in his big soft foot. He went on three legs a while and then showed of what stuff he was made. He rolled on his back and deliberately gnawed the burr out with his teeth without a whimper. He had left mother and father for me, and he was to meet emergencies as they came.

He was going out where there was a future, and no such little thing as a thorn, not even a camel thistle, could stop him. I wondered if he would be happier if he knew of the glittering collar I was going to get for him when

AS TO DOGS

we reached New York, and how proud I knew my own dogs would be to meet him. With the knowledge he would acquire on a trip to the Anezeh, everything seemed to be before him. Sheikh Ali had galloped his bay mare a mile ahead to the tents of his own tribe, and the horsemen came galloping to meet us, carrying spears that looked thirty feet long. It was all excitement and the puppy ran ahead to join it. We saw the Sheikh's tent, a big tent with lots of men near it. They were killing a lamb and wolf-like dogs were jumping aroimd it. Before I could dismount, or a man come to the rescue with a spear, my volunteer baby guard, my puppy, my boy that was leaving home at ten and going out into the world to make a living, was torn and dead. He didn't whine. He had fought as well as he could with his puppy teeth, the teeth that had scratched my hand in play a few hours before, but they had failed him. He had started out for himself to be as much of a man as a dog can ever be. He had left home that his father might rule alone. But he was gone and it was all over! The opportimity we thought so bright was a blank. The career that had started so well had ended quickly. The first

MY QUEST OF THE ARAB HORSE

real fight he had ever made was the only one he ever was to make.

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