The Horse, as Comrade and Friend 



manoeuvres herself and curves her path, so 

 that she always keeps herself between Sam 

 and the foal. Sam has never seen the mare 

 fly away from him before, and, with the added 

 attraction of this little thing racing with her, 

 thinks it a great game and humps himself to 

 get up with them. You call Sam but with no 

 effect, and the race continues all round the 

 field, until the foal begins to get a little pumped. 

 The mare sees this, and, suddenly facing round, 

 goes for Sam with open mouth and forelegs 

 viciously striking at him. Sam was out for 

 fun and not for a fight, so turns tail and plumps 

 himself down in some long grass. All that 

 can be seen of him above it are his eyes and 

 two cocked ears. The mare goes to the foal, 

 who has dropped behind, sniffs him to see that 

 he is all right, and, catching sight of you, makes 

 in your direction, but bending her head to keep 

 an eye on the traitorous Sam. The foal follows 

 slowly behind, but, as soon as he sees you, up 

 he comes at a trot and pushes himself boister- 

 ously against you. You pat him, scratch his 

 neck and back, from delight of which he rubs 

 his head and neck vigorously up and down 

 your waistcoat. The old mare comes up and 

 touches you with her nose, and stands by — 

 still with an eye on Sam.* So all is peace and 

 harmony once more, and, in a moment or two, 



♦In three days Sam and the foal were inseparable pals. 



215 



