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What a faithful brute he looked!
Lucy liked his eyes.
Then she edged down in among the cactus and brush. The red horse no longer lay
in a strained position. He could lift his head. Lucy saw that the noose still
held tight round his neck. Fearlessly she jerked it loose. Then she backed
away, but not quite out of his reach. He coughed and breathed slowly, with
great heaves. Then he snorted.
"You're all right now," said Lucy, soothingly. Slowly she reached a hand
toward his head. He drew it back as far as he could. She stepped around,
closer, and more back of him, and put a hand on him, gently, for an instant.
Then she slipped out of the brush and, untying one lasso from the pommel, she
returned to the horse and pulled it from round his legs. He was free now,
except the hackamore, and that rope was slack. Lucy stood near him, watching
him, talking to him, waiting for him to get up. She could not be sure he was
not badly hurt till he stood up. At first he made no efforts to rise. He
watched Lucy, less fearfully, she imagined.


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