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The King jumped and snorted in fright.
For an instant Lucy's blood ran cold, for it was a horrible cry. Then she
recognized it as the neigh of a horse in agony. She had heard crippled and
dying horses utter that long-drawn and blood-curdling neigh. The black horse
had not moved, so the sound could not have come from him. Lucy thought Sage
King acted more excited than the occasion called for. Then remembering her
father's warning, she reined in on top of a little knoll, perhaps a hundred
yards from where the black horse stood, and she bent her keen gaze forward.
It was a huge, gaunt, shaggy black horse she saw, with the saddle farther up
on his shoulders than it should have been. He stood motionless, as if utterly
exhausted. His forelegs were braced, so that he leaned slightly back. Then
Lucy saw a rope. It was fast to the saddle and stretched down into the cactus.
There was no other horse in sight, nor any living thing. The immense monument
dominated the scene. It seemed stupendous to Lucy, sublime, almost frightful.


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