The horse banged his head against the side of the porch. Over and over again the pail handle dinged against the post. His scavenging for a drop of water had left him muzzled. Changing tactics the horse began scraping at the bucket with his hoof, trying desperately to free his nose from it. The stallion’s voice was muffled by its wooden confines. Shaking his head fervently and stomping in frustration the horse raised a cloud of dirt around him. As he tossed his head back and forth a drop of water was shaken free. As soon as it met the dirt it was consumed in dust, the moisture stolen. He returned to bashing the bucket forcefully, trying to break it. The ringing of the handle against the post matched the church bell announcing the arrival of morning.
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