"It's Bess," said David, his face pallid with contrition. "I hope to
God she's not hurt. Up, Bess, there! Up on your feet, old girl!"
At her master's voice the docile brute made a second attempt to rise,
but again sank down, her sides panting, her head strained up.
Leff leaped off his horse.
"Damn her, I'll make her get up," he said, and gave her a violent kick
on the ribs. The mare rolled an agonized eye upon him, and with a
sudden burst of fury he rained kick after kick on her face.
David gave a strange sound, a pinched, thin cry, as if wrung from him
by unbearable suffering, and leaped over the wheel. He struck Leff on
the chest, a blow so savage and unexpected that it sent him staggering
back into the stream, where, his feet slipping among the stones, he
fell sprawling.
"Do that again and I'll kill you," David cried, and moving to the horse
stood over it with legs spread and fists clinched for battle.
Leff scrambled to his knees, his face ominous, and Courant, who had
been looking at the mare, apparently indifferent to the quarrel, now
slipped to the ground.
"Let that hound alone," he said.
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