From somewhere ahead came an answering whinny, a fence loomed up out of the darkness and, following it around, they came to the cabin of the remount station.
Some of the Fremen moved on around a concealing angle in the chamber and new sounds started there—machine coughs, the whinnies of spinning belts and multidrives.
Stableboys and jockeys, white, negro and Mexican, hung about at the street corners and there was the whinny and the occasional trumpeting scream of horses in the air.