And then, before even he had time to wonder, the great white stallion
was upon him--dancing on its hind legs on that narrow path like an
acrobat, towering above him to twice his own height, striking savagely
down at him with its great front feet, screaming like a fiend.
He had no time to think. His left arm and the lantern went up with the
natural instinct of defence. Just one glimpse he got--and never forgot
it--of vicious white eyes and teeth, flapping red nostrils, wild-flying
hair, and huge pawing feet descending on him, with the dirty white hair
splaying out all round them as they came down. Then his right hand went
up also, and he fired full into all these things. The lantern and the
blunderbuss went spinning into the gulf, the great feet beat him to the
ground, and rose and jabbed down at him with all the vicious might that
lay behind them--the savage white muzzle shrilling its blood-curdling
screams of triumph all the while--and all this in the space of a second.
"Good God!" cried the Doctor, craning over the eastern bank of the
cutting, but fearful of firing into the turmoil lest he should hit Gard,
so dropped himself bodily over on to the path.
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