"But why now, when the weather's fairin' off?"
"'Cause she needs a doctor, that's why," Grandpa answered. "She's way past her time."
"Shucks, you never done this with your other ponies."
"But they're used to wild ways," Paul broke in. "Misty's more like folks."
"My grandchildren set a mighty store by her," Grandpa said. "We just can't chance it."
In front of his house the Mayor came out and flagged them down. "Beebe," he said, looking heavy-eyed and discouraged, "we're having a time getting those carcasses airlifted."
"How come?"
"The government has approved sending 'copters to take fresh water to the ponies still alive on Assateague, but they have no orders yet to take out the dead ones."
Grandpa exploded. "Mayor! The live ones has got water. There's allus water in the high-up pools in the White Hills. Them ponies know it."
"You and I know it too, Clarence. But sometimes outside people get sentimental in the wrong places. They mean well enough," he added with a tired smile. "It's the same old story about the evacuation. Even though the drinking water is piped to Chincoteague from the mainland, the Health Department still says no women or children can return yet."