He noticed a long-bodied colt, incredibly dainty of foot, wandering nervously near him with pricking ears and sniffing nose.  Alcatraz extended his lordly head and sniffed the velvet muzzle, whereat the youngster snorted and darted away shaking his head and kicking up his heels as though he had just bearded the lion and was delighted at the success of his impertinence.  The mother had come anxiously close during this adventure but now she regarded Alcatraz with a friendly glance and went about her serious business of eating for two.

The grey mare was drifting near, likewise, as though by inadvertence, nibbling the headed grasstops as she came; but Alcatraz shrewdly guessed that her approach was not altogether unplanned.  He was not displeased.  His quiet happiness grew as the cloud—­shadows rushed across him and the sun warmed him.  It was a pleasant world—­a pleasant, pleasant world!  His people wandered in the hollow.  They looked to him for warning of danger.  They looked at him for guidance in a crisis and he accepted the burden cheerfully.

Fear, it seemed, had made him one with them.  All his life he had dreaded only one thing—­man; but these creatures of the wild had many a fear of the lobo, the mountain-lion, the drought, the high flying buzzard who would claim them, dying, and added above all this, man.  Not that Alcatraz knew these things definitely.  He could only feel that these, his people, were strong only in their speed and in their timidity, and he felt power to rule and protect them.  For he who had fought man, and won, had surely nothing to dread from beasts.  The great moment of his life had come to him not in the crushing of the Mexican or the baffling of the mountain lion or the defeat of the black leader but in the first gentle kindness that had ever softened his stern spirit.  He was used to battle; but these, his people, accepted him.  He was used to suspicion and trickery but these trusted him blindly.  He was used to hate, but because they had put themselves into his power he began to love them.  He felt a blood-tie between him and the weakest colt within the range of his eye.

The herd drifted slowly down—­wind until late afternoon, eating their way rather than travelling, but when the heat began to wane and the slant sunlight took on a yellow tone they began to show signs of unrest, milling in a compact group with the foals frolicking on the outskirts of the circle.  The mares were particularly disturbed, it seemed to Alcatraz, especially the mothers; and since all heads were turned repeatedly towards him he became anxious.  Something was expected of him.  What was it?