MY QUEST OF THE ARAB HORSE 



bit; it was the dog's first, and he fell over a 

 clod in his initial race. He came back to the 

 shadow of the horse, and there ambled along 

 in a dignified way. Astride the best horse in 

 the desert, and protected by the best puppy in 

 the world, I was much elated. We flushed 

 some francolins, beautiful birds, but he was too 

 important to be a bird dog. He was march- 

 ing among horses and men and camels. He 

 was the only dog in the caravan and at every 

 mile he seemed to realize the fact more. He 

 was avoiding the camel thistles as best he could, 

 but while more francolins went up and his 

 attention was on them for a moment he got a 

 nasty burr in his big soft foot. He went on 

 three legs a while and then showed of what 

 stuff he was made. He rolled on his back and 

 deliberately gnawed the burr out with his 

 teeth without a whimper. He had left mother 

 and father for me, and he was to meet emer- 

 gencies as they came. 



He was going out where there was a future, 

 and no such little thing as a thorn, not even 

 a camel thistle, could stop him. I wondered 

 if he would be happier if he knew of the glit- 

 tering collar I was going to get for him when 



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