288
CAYBIGAN
without entering her hut. She had long ceased feeling.
They came to the plaza. The old cavalry horse was still standing as before, his swollen legs spread in a wide base, his head dropped to the ground, his patient, bulging eyes red with blood. His rattling, dolorous breath, above the humming undertone of carrion-flies, was the only break in the heated silence.
The Maestro looked at the animal. His chin dropped to his chest.
He raised his head with a sharp movement and walked on.
"I have done well," he said.
