That afternoon the herd was again at the ford, having completed their circular tour.
The Black and White Mare.
XVI.—SKEWBALD THE SWIFT
It was early in September, and Skewbald’s owner, who had seen him only once during the summer, but had had reports of his having been found in various parts of the forest from agisters and keepers, decided that he would “catch in” the four-year-old, and get a good price for him as a pit pony. He settled to do the job himself, and, with two neighbours who volunteered to give up a Saturday afternoon, started off in the direction where the herd had been seen last. It was fine and clear (“visibility very good”), and Skewbald was plainly in view more than a mile away. The ponies were scattered along a ridge above a narrow valley, the floor of which was largely occupied by a deep bog.
It was decided to keep out of sight as long as possible, and come at the stallion from over the hill, in the hope that he could be driven down to the bog and surrounded.
But if the horsemen could see Skewbald at a distance, because of his bold colouring, he could detect them by reason of his good sight, and though they had apparently gone right away, he remained uneasy, marching from one mare to another. Presently he heard the muffled beat of hoofs on turf, and called loudly to his companions. When the three hunters reached the crest of the hill and looked down, Skewbald and several mares, with their offspring, were trotting away towards the head of the valley.
There was nothing for the hunters to do but to go for it at their best speed. Skewbald, they knew, like any stallion true to his herd, would not leave the mares, if he could help it. When they tired was the chance to get him. But as the horsemen galloped, the trot of the fugitives changed to the quicker step also, and though the riders gained on the herd, Skewbald was always on the far side, protected, as it were, by the column of mares, foals, and younger ponies.