through the fog at five in the morning.
Smith would say later that the horse looked
right through him.
As if to say,
"What the hell are you looking at? Who do you think you are?"
He was a small horse, barely fifteen
hands. He was hurting too. There was a limp in
his walk,a wheezing when he
breathed. Smith didn't pay attention to that.
He was looking the horse in the eye. "