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“Now sped he like a pirate of the air. Now fled she like a flying yacht gold-laden, away, away, and the warm wind whistled, left behind. But the pirate surely wins when the prize is not averse to being taken. Not many a span of the winding stream, not many a wing-beat of that flight ere Atalapha was skimming side by side with a glorified Silver-brown. How rich and warm was that coat. How gentle, alluring the form and the exquisite presence that told without sounds of a spirit that also had hungered.” — Ernest Thompson Seton
Now sped he like a pirate of the air. Now fled she like a flying yacht gold-laden, away, away, and the warm wind whistled, left behind. But the pirate surely wins when the prize is not averse to being taken. Not many a span of the winding stream, not many a wing-beat of that flight ere Atalapha was skimming side by side with a glorified Silver-brown. How rich and warm was that coat. How gentle, alluring the form and the exquisite presence that told without sounds of a spirit that also had hungered.