Bellon dismounted, and the mare's inelegant tail switched her bony flanks. He coaxed and patted her, but all she did was jerk her head the more.
Resorting to a flashlight, Bellon clicked it at her feet.
As the glare hit the marl, he recoiled, as one struck, at the spectacle it revealed—a little Negro baby sleeping in the marl!
"God, what's next!"—
Hesitatingly he approached, discerning that it lived, and moved.
For a spell he gazed at it, half-afraid. But for a diaper of green leaves it was nude. Then it occurred to him to pick it up.
Instantly the child reacted to its contact with human warmth and snuggled to Bellon's bosom. He smoothed its soft, bronze skin and the waif, with hands flagrantly like a bird's claws, burrowed closer to him.
With the child held close the buckra started for the horse, but—like a shot—Rayside bolted!
"Steady, mare!" Bellon growled, quietly reining her back in, "Easy, horse!"