MOUNTAIN PONIES
A pair of young mountain ponies, as alert as deer, stood in the gorse at the foot of the hill, watching as I approached along the rough track. Their mothers were missing, and probably they had gone a hundred yards or so to drink at a water-hole in the hollow. I fancied that I might get close to the foals as they stood without attempting to run while I stepped quietly and slowly towards them. In a minute or two I might have reached out to one that sniffed and stretched its neck forward, but all at once there was a disturbance some yards away. A mare had come up from a depression in the rocks. Both foals whirled and dashed away, seeming to be in danger of break- ing their legs at every bound. Last autumn I saw the mares of this small herd and they were obviously in foal. Soon, no doubt, the owners will be out to count their investment and cal- culate the profit to be made when the ponies can be lured down to feed in the hard weather next winter. The youngsters will then be cut out and sold in the market.
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