THE WAR MARE IN THE DESERT 



broke the rules of the desert and went as I was 

 dressed. 



I argued to myself that some time Wadduda 

 would have to get used to me and my clothes 

 and that she had best begin at once. So I let 

 her fret. We rode on for miles over dirt and 

 rock and Wadduda still seemed fretful. She 

 wanted something; that was evident, but what 

 it was I could not quite make out. Then sud- 

 denly I was enlightened. 



Just as the big red sun was setting we came 

 to the desert. Wadduda stopped as if she 

 were paying some tribute to the closing day. 

 The faint roadway now seemed to disappear 

 and before us was a vast barren plain. The sky 

 was of a soft blue, tinted to gold by the sun, 

 which had just set. I turned in my Oregon- 

 made saddle, as easily as I could, that I might 

 see where the rest of the caravan was. The 

 mare did not notice my turning. With a quick 

 and graceful toss of the head, she began to 

 play. I sat deep down in my saddle and let 

 her frolic uninterrupted. She finally stopped 

 short, and snorted twice. 



Turning slightly to the left she started gal- 

 loping with a delightful spring. It was the 

 return home, the call of the wild life with its 



[95] 



