He could
see them breasting the first sweep of the current, their heads held high,
struggling for the opposite shore. He rose, dropped his birds, and stared.
"Good God, what a fool!" he gasped.
He saw the tragedy almost before it had begun. Still three hundred yards
below the swimming horses was the gravelly bar which they must reach on the
opposite side. He noted the grayish strip of smooth water that marked the
end of the dead-line. Three or four of the stronger animals were forging
steadily toward this. The others grouped close together, almost motionless
in their last tremendous fight, were left farther and farther behind. Then
came the break. A mare and her yearling colt had gone in with the bunch.
Aldous saw the colt, with its small head and shoulders high out of the
water, sweep down like a chip with the current. A cold chill ran through
him as he heard the whinneying scream of the mother--a warning cry that
held for him the pathos and the despair of a creature that was human. He
knew what it meant. "Wait--I'm coming--I'm coming!" was in that cry. He saw
the mare give up and follow resistlessly with the deadly current, her eyes
upon her colt.
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