His mane, his shaggy flanks, were lathered as if he had been smeared with heavy soap-suds.

He raised his head to look at her.

Lucy, accustomed to horses all her life, saw that this one welcomed her arrival.

But he was almost ready to drop.
Two taut lassoes stretched from the pommel of his saddle down a little into a depression full of brush and cactus and rocks.

Then Lucy saw a red horse.