ii6 1 N A G U A 



built a fire under her. She only moved a few feet to one side 

 and stood still again. 



I had about given up hope when for no good reason Griselda 

 trotted ahead as quietly as a lamb. She was to have her fun in 

 another way. Each large tree that was passed was used to dis- 

 lodge the pack and crush its contents. Then she would turn 

 her head and grin— I could almost swear it. Eventually I shoved 

 her ahead until we emerged into a semi-open plain where there 

 were no large trees. Here, I thought, I would have no trouble. 

 But Griselda slowed down to a queer waltzing gait, almost a 

 snail's pace. She would go no faster, certainly no slower. For 

 the remainder of the day she acted miserably. When evening 

 came we had progressed only ten miles— a very poor day's 

 travel. 



In a vile humor I unloaded the pack, tethered the donkey 

 to a bush and spread a blanket. I felt hot, dirty and out of sorts. 

 From the heights of elation I was plunged into the depths of 

 dejection. Instead of Griselda I renamed her Timonias, after 

 Timon of Athens, the famed Greek misanthrope who passed 

 his days cursing all mankind. 



That night will long be remembered as one of the most weird 

 I have ever spent. I had hardly settled in my blankets when a 

 horrible scream burst through the air. It was followed by an- 

 other and still another. I sat bolt upright, seized a small pistol, 

 and sprang to my feet. It was pitch dark and all around I could 

 hear the scratching sounds of myriad crabs crawling over the 

 rocks. Once more the high-pitched scream pierced the gloom. 

 It was answered by another some distance away. Close by, 

 Timonias was thrashing at her tether. I walked over and was 

 met by a flail of thudding hoofs. They missed me by inches. 

 She came at me with bare teeth; only the tether kept her back. 



The loud ringing of hoofs on the bare rock soon told me 

 the cause of her actions. She had caught the smell of her wild 



