At any rate, if it were, it could not be avoided.
The Senorita must have a horse, and Baba had always been her
own; had followed her about like a dog ever since he could run; in
fact, the only taming he had ever had, had been done by Ramona,
with bread and honey. He was intractable to others; but Ramona
could guide him by a wisp of his silky mane. Alessandro also had
nearly as complete control over him; for it had been one of his
greatest pleasures, during the summer, when he could not see
Ramona, to caress and fondle her horse, till Baba knew and loved
him next to his young mistress. If only Baba were in the corral, all
would be well. As soon as the sound of Ramona's footsteps had
died away, Alessandro followed with quick but stealthy steps;
keeping well down in the bottom, below the willows, he skirted
the terrace where the artichoke-patch and the sheepfolds lay, and
then turned up to approach the corral from the farther side. There
was no light in any of the herdsmen's huts. They were all asleep.
That was good. Well Alessandro knew how sound they slept; many
a night while he slept there with them he had walked twice over
their bodies as they lay stretched on skins on the floor,-- out and in
without rousing them.
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