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diff --git a/31380-h/31380-h.htm b/31380-h/31380-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e582784 --- /dev/null +++ b/31380-h/31380-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7806 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<meta name="generator" content="eppg.py 0.51 (22-Feb-2010)" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bred of the Desert, by Marcus Horton</title> +<style type="text/css"> +body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} +p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} +.pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} +.pncolor {color:silver;} +h1,h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} +h1 {font-size:1.6em; margin-top:4ex; margin-bottom:2ex;} +h2 {font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4ex; margin-bottom:2ex;} +a {text-decoration:none;} +div.toc a {text-decoration:underline;} +div.loi a {text-decoration:underline;} +hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver;} +div.figcenter {text-align:center; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em;} +div.figcenter p {text-align:center;} +div.titlepage {} +div.titlepage p {text-align:center;} +.fs22 {font-size:2.2em;} +.i {font-style:italic;} +.fs12 {font-size:1.2em;} +.mb40 {margin-bottom:40px;} +.tpi {margin:25px auto;text-align:center;} +.fs08 {font-size:0.8em;} +.c {text-align:center;} +hr.hr10 {border:none;border-bottom:1px solid black; width:10%; margin-left:45%;} +.b {font-weight:bold;} +.mt05 {margin-top:05px;} +.mb05 {margin-bottom:05px;} +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; clear:both;} +td.tcol1 {text-align:left; vertical-align:top;} +td.tcol2 {text-align:left; padding-right:2ex; vertical-align:top;} +td.tcol3 {text-align:right; vertical-align:bottom;} +td.center {text-align:center;} +td.fs12 {font-size:1.2em;} +td.fs08 {font-size:0.8em;} +td.tar {text-align:right;} +span.h2fs {font-size:smaller;} +hr.tb {border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; margin-top:10px; margin-bottom:10px; margin-left:30%; width:40%;} +div.bquote {font-size:1.0em; margin:5px 5%;} +div.bquote p {text-indent:0em; margin-bottom:4px; margin-top:4px;} +.tar {text-align:right;} +.sc {font-variant:small-caps;} +.sc {font-variant:small-caps;} +.finis {text-align:center; margin-top:15px;} +hr.hr30 {border:none;border-bottom:1px solid black; width:30%; margin-left:35%;} +.u {text-decoration:underline;} +.fs13 {font-size:1.3em;} +div.imgleft {float: left; clear: left; text-align: center; border: 1px solid white; padding: 3px; margin: 0 4px 0 0;} +.fs11 {font-size:1.1em;} +.mt00 {margin-top:00px;} +.fs15 {font-size:1.5em;} +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bred of the Desert, by Marcus Horton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bred of the Desert + A Horse and a Romance + +Author: Marcus Horton + +Release Date: February 24, 2010 [EBook #31380] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRED OF THE DESERT *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.fadedpage.com + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i1'></a><img src='images/ifpc.jpg' alt='' /> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='titlepage'> +<p class='fs22'>BRED OF THE<br />DESERT</p> + +<p class='i fs12 mb40'>A HORSE AND A ROMANCE</p> + +<p>BY</p> <p class='fs12'>MARCUS HORTON</p> + +<div class='tpi'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/iemb.jpg' /> +</div> + +<p>NEW YORK<br /> <span class='fs12'>GROSSET & DUNLAP</span><br /> +PUBLISHERS</p> + +<p class='fs08'>Published by Arrangement with Harper & Brothers</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs08'>COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY HARPER & BROTHERS</p> +<hr class='hr10' /> +<p class='c fs08'>PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA<br />PUBLISHED +APRIL, 1915</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c'>TO</p> + +<p class='c b mt05 mb05'>A. D. B. S. H.</p> + +<p class='c'>WHO TAUGHT CONSIDERATION FOR THE DUMB<br />THIS WORK IS LOVINGLY +INSCRIBED</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='TOC'> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'>CONTENTS</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='fs08'>CHAPTER</td><td colspan='2' class='tar fs08'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>I.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>A Colt Is Born</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_1'>1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>II.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Felipe Celebrates</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_2'>15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>III.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>A Surprise</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_3'>27</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IV.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>A New Home</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_4'>35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>V.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Loneliness</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_5'>47</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VI.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>The First Great Lesson</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_6'>57</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>A Stranger</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_7'>72</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VIII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Felipe Makes a Discovery</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_8'>85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IX.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>The Second Great Lesson</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_9'>98</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>X.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>The Stranger Again</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_10'>112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XI.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Love Rejected</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_11'>126</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Adventure</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_12'>145</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>In the Waste Places</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_13'>156</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIV.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>A Picture</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_14'>172</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XV.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Change of Masters</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_15'>175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XVI.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Pat Turns Thief</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_16'>186</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XVII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>A Running Fight</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_17'>199</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XVIII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>An Enemy</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_18'>210</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIX.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Another Change of Masters</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_19'>228</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XX.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Fidelity</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_20'>240</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXI.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Life and Death</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_21'>256</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Quiescence</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_22'>280</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXIII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>The Reunion</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_23'>285</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<h1>BRED OF THE DESERT</h1> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1'></a>1</span><a id='link_1'></a>CHAPTER I<br /><span class='h2fs'>A COLT IS BORN</span></h2> + +<p>It was high noon in the desert, but there was no dazzling sunlight. Over the +earth hung a twilight, a yellow-pink softness that flushed across the sky like +the approach of a shadow, covering everything yet concealing nothing, creeping +steadily onward, yet seemingly still, until, pressing low over the earth, it +took on changing color, from pink to gray, from gray to black–gloom that +precedes tropical showers. Then the wind came–a breeze rising as it were +from the hot earth–forcing the Spanish dagger to dipping acknowledgment, +sending dust-devils swirling across the slow curves of the desert–and then +the storm burst in all its might. For this was a storm–a sand-storm of the +Southwest.</p> + +<p>Down the slopes to the west billowed giant clouds of sand. At the bottom +these clouds tumbled and surged and mounted, and then, resuming <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2'></a>2</span> their headlong course, swept +across the flat land bordering the river, hurtled across the swollen Rio Grande +itself, and so on up the gentle rise of ground to the town, where they swung +through the streets in ruthless strides–banging signs, ripping up +roofings, snapping off branches–and then lurched out over the mesa to the +east. Here, as if in glee over their escape from city confines, they redoubled +in fury and tore down to earth–and enveloped Felipe Montoya, a young and +good-looking Mexican, and his team of scrawny horses plodding in a lumber +rigging, all in a stinging swirl.</p> + +<p>“Haya!” cried Felipe, as the first of the sand-laden winds struck +him, “Chivos–chivos!” And he shot out his whip, gave the lash +a twist over the off mare, and brought it down with a resounding thwack. +“R-run!” he snarled, and again brought the whip down upon the +emaciated mare. “You joost natural lazy! Thees storm–we–we +get-tin’–” His voice was carried away on the swirling +winds.</p> + +<p>But the horses seemed not to hear the man; nor, in the case of the off mare, +to feel the bite of his lash. They continued to plod along the beaten trail, +heads drooping, ears flopping, hoofs scuffling disconsolately. Felipe, +accompanying each outburst with a mighty swing of his whip, swore and pleaded +and objurgated and threatened in turn. But all to no avail. The horses held +stolidly to their gait, plodding–even, after a time, dropping into slower +movement. Whereat Felipe, abandoning <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_3'></a>3</span> all hope, flung down reins and whip, and leaped off the +reach of the rigging. Prompt with the loosened lines the team came to a full +stop; and Felipe, snatching up a blanket, covered his head and shoulders with it +and squatted in the scant protection of a forward wheel.</p> + +<p>The storm whipped and howled past. Felipe listened, noting each change in its +velocity as told by the sound of raging gusts outside, himself raging. Once he +lifted a corner of the blanket and peered out–only to suffer the sting of +a thousand needles. Again, he hunched his shoulders guardedly and endeavored to +roll a cigarette; but the tempestuous blasts discouraged this also, and with a +curse he dashed the tobacco from him. After that he remained still, listening, +until he heard an agreeable change outside. The screeching sank to a crooning; +the crooning dropped to a low, musical sigh. Flinging off the blanket, he rose +and swept the desert with eyes sand-filled and blinking.</p> + +<p>The last of the yellow winds was eddying slowly past. All about him the air, +thinning rapidly, pulsated in the sun’s rays, which, beaming mildly down +upon the desert, were spreading everywhere in glorious sheen. To the east, the +mountains, stepping forth in the clearing atmosphere, lay revealed in a warmth +of soft purple; while the slopes to the west, over which the storm had broken, +shone in a wealth of dazzling yellow-white light–sunbeams scintillating +off myriads of tiny sand-cubes. The desert was itself again–bright, +resplendent-gripped in the clutch of solitude.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span>Felipe tossed his +blanket back upon the reach of the rigging. Then he caught up reins and whip, +ready to go on. As he did so he paused in dismay.</p> + +<p>For one of the mares was down! It was the off mare, the slower and the older +mare of the two. She was lying prone and she was breathing heavily. Covered as +she was with a thin layer of fine sand, and tightly girdled with chaotic harness +straps, she was a spectacle of abject misery.</p> + +<p>But Felipe did not see this. All he saw, in the blinding rage which suddenly +possessed him, was a horse down, unready for duty, and beside her a horse +standing, ready for duty, but restrained by the other. Stringing out a volley of +oaths, he stepped to the side of the mare and jerked at her head, but she +refused stubbornly to get up on her feet.</p> + +<p>Gripped in dismay deeper than at first, Felipe fell back in mechanical +resignation.</p> + +<p>Was the mare dying? he asked himself. He could ill afford to lose a mare. +Horses cost seven and eight dollars, and he did not possess so much money. +Indeed, all the money he had in the world was three dollars, received for this +last load of wood in town. So, what to do! Cursing the mare had not helped +matters; nor could he accuse the storm, for there had been other storms, many of +them, and each had she successfully weathered–been ready, with its +passing, to go on! But not so this one! She–Huh? Could it be possible? +Ah!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5'></a>5</span>He looked at the +mare with new interest. And the longer he gazed the more his anger subsided, +became finally downright compassion. For he was reviewing a something he had +contemplated at odd times for weeks with many misgivings and tenacious +unbeliefs. Never had he understood it! Never would he understand that thing! So +why lose time in an effort to understand it now?</p> + +<p>Dropping to his knees, he fell to work with feverish haste unbuckling straps +and bands. With the harness loose, he dragged it off and tossed it to one side. +Then, still moving feverishly, he led the mate to the mare off the trail, turned +to the wagon with bracing shoulder, backed it clear of the prostrate animal, and +swung it out of the way of future passing vehicles. It was sweltering work. When +it was done, with the sun, risen to its fierce zenith, beating down upon him +mercilessly, he strode off the trail, blowing and perspiring, and flung himself +down in the baking sand, where, though irritated by particles of sand which had +sifted down close inside his shirt, he nevertheless gave himself over to sober +reflections.</p> + +<p>He was stalled till the next morning–he knew that. And he was without +food-supplies to carry him over. And he was ten miles on the one hand, and five +up-canyon miles on the other, from all source of supplies. But against these +unpleasant facts there stood many pleasant facts–he was on the return leg +of his journey, his wagon was empty, and he had in his possession three dollars. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span> Then, too, there was +another pleasant fact. The trip as a trip had been unusual; never before had he, +or any one else, made it under two days–one for loading and driving into +town, and a second for getting rid of the wood and making the return. Yet he +himself had been out now only the one day, and he was on his way home. He had +whipped and crowded his horses since midnight to just this end. Yet was he not +stalled now till morning? And would not this delay set him back the one day he +had gained over his fellow-townsmen? And would not these same fellow-townsmen +rejoice in this opportunity to overtake him–worse, to leave him behind? +They would!</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” he concluded, philosophically, stretching out upon +his back and drawing his worn and ragged sombrero over his eyes, “soon is +comin’ a <i>potrillo</i>.” With this he deliberately courted +slumber.</p> + +<p>Out of the stillness rattled a wagon. Like Felipe’s, it was a lumber +rigging, and the driver, a fat Mexican with beady eyes, pulled up his horses and +gazed at the disorder. It was but a perfunctory gaze, however, and revealed to +him nothing of the true situation. All he saw was that Felipe was drunk and +asleep, and that before dropping beside the trail he had had time, and perhaps +just enough wit, to unhitch one horse. The other, true to instinct and the law +of her underfed and overworked kind, had lain down. With this conclusion, and +out of sheer exuberance of alcoholic <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_7'></a>7</span> spirits, he decided to awaken Felipe. And this he +did–in true Mexican fashion. With a curse of but five words–words of +great scope and finest selection, however–he mercilessly raked +Felipe’s ancestors for five generations back; he objurgated Felipe’s +holdings–chickens, adobe house, money, burro, horses, pigs. He closed, +snarling not obscurely at Felipe the man and at any progeny of his which might +appear in the future. Then he dropped his reins and sprang off the reach of his +rigging.</p> + +<p>Felipe was duly awakened. He gained his feet slowly.</p> + +<p>“You know me, eh?” he retorted, advancing toward the other. +“All right–<i>gracios</i>!” And by way of coals of fire he +proffered the fellow-townsman papers and tobacco.</p> + +<p>The new-comer revealed surprise, not alone at Felipe’s sobriety, though +this was startling in view of the disorder in the trail, but also at the proffer +of cigarette material. And he was about to speak when Felipe interrupted +him.</p> + +<p>“You haf t’ink I’m drunk, eh, Franke?” he said. +“Sure! Why not?” And he waved his hand in the direction of the +trail. Then, after the other had rolled a cigarette and returned the sack and +papers, he laid a firm hand upon the man’s shoulder. “You coom +look,” he invited. “You tell me what you t’ink thees!”</p> + +<p>They walked to the mare, and Franke gazed a long moment in silence. Felipe +stood beside him, eying him sharply, hoping for an expression of <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> approval–even of +congratulation. In this he was doomed to disappointment, for the other continued +silent, and in silence finally turned back, his whole attitude that of one who +saw nothing in the spectacle worthy of comment. Felipe followed him, nettled, +and sat down and himself rolled a cigarette. As he sat smoking it the other +seated himself beside him, and presently touched him on the arm and began to +speak. Felipe listened, with now and again a nod of approval, and, when the +<i>compadre</i> was finished, accepted the brilliant proposition.</p> + +<p>“A bet, eh?” he exclaimed. “All right!” And he +produced his sheepskin pouch and dumped out his three dollars. “All right! +I bet you feety cents, Franke, thot eet don’ be!”</p> + +<p>Frank looked his disdain at the amount offered. Also, his eyes blazed and his +round face reddened. He shoved his hand into his overalls, brought forth a +silver dollar, and tossed it down in the sand.</p> + +<p>“A bet!” he yelled. “Mek eet a bet! A dolar!” Then he +narrowed his eyes in the direction of the mare. “Mek eet a good bet! You +have chonce to win, too, Felipe–you know!”</p> + +<p>Felipe did not respond immediately. Money was his all-absorbing difficulty. +Never plentiful with him, it was less than ever plentiful now, and was wholly +represented in the three dollars before him. A sum little enough in fact, it +dwindled rapidly as he recalled one by one his numerous debts. For he owed much +money. He <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span> owed for +food in the settlement store; he owed for clothing he had bought in town; and he +owed innumerable gambling debts–big sums, sums mounting to heights he +dared not contemplate. And all he had to his name was the three dollars lying so +peacefully before him, with the speculative Franke hovering over them like a fat +buzzard over a dead coyote. What to do! He could not decide. He had ways for +this money, other than paying on his debts or investing in a gambling +proposition. There was to be a <i>baile</i> soon, and he must buy for Margherita +(providing her father, a caustic <i>hombre</i>, bitter against all wood-haulers, +permitted him the girl’s society) peanuts in the dance-hall and candy +outside the dance-hall. The candy must be bought in the general store, where, +because of his many debts, he must pay cash now–always cash! So what to +do! All these things meant money. And money, as he well understood, was a thing +hard to get. Yet here was a chance, as Franke had generously indicated, for him +to win some money. But, against this chance for him to win some money was the +chance also, as conveyed inversely by Franke, of his losing some +money–money he could ill afford to lose.</p> + +<p>“You afraid?” suddenly cut in Franke, nastily, upon these +reflections. “I don’ see you do soomt’ing!”</p> + +<p>Which decided Felipe for all time. “Afraid?” he echoed, +disdainfully. “Sure! But not for myself! You don’ have mooch money +to lose! But <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> I mek +eet a bet–a good bet! I bet you two dolars thot eet–thot eet +don’ be!”</p> + +<p>It was now the other who hesitated. But he did not hesitate for long. +Evidently the spirit of the gambler was more deeply rooted in him than it was in +Felipe, for, after gazing out in the trail a moment, then eying Felipe another +moment, both speculatively, he extracted from his pockets two more silver +dollars and tossed them down with the others. Then he fixed Felipe with a +malignant stare.</p> + +<p>“I bet you t’ree dolars thot eet cooms what I haf say!”</p> + +<p>Felipe laughed. “All right,” he agreed, readily. “Why +not?” He heaped the money under a stone, sank over upon his back with an +affected yawn, drew his hat over his eyes, and lay still. “We go to sleep +now, Franke,” he proposed. “Eet’s long time–I haf +t’ink.”</p> + +<p>Soon both were snoring.</p> + +<p>Out in the trail hung the quiet of a sick-room. The long afternoon waned. +Once a wagon appeared from the direction of town, but the driver, evidently +grasping the true situation, turned out and around the mare in respectful +silence. Another time a single horseman, riding from the mountains, cantered +upon the scene; but this man, also with a look of understanding, turned out and +around the mare in careful regard for her condition. Then came darkness. Shadows +crept in from nowhere, stealing over the desert more and more darkly, while, +with their coming, birds <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_11'></a>11</span> of the air, seeking safe place for night rest, +flitted about in nervous uncertainty. And suddenly in the gathering dusk rose +the long-drawn howl of a coyote, lifting into the stillness a lugubrious note of +appeal. Then, close upon the echo of this, rose another appeal in the trail +close by, the shrill nicker of the mate to the mare.</p> + +<p>It awoke Felipe. He sat up quickly, rubbed his eyes dazedly, and peered out +with increasing understanding. Then he sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>“Coom!” he called, kicking the other. “We go now–see +who is winnin’ thot bet!” And he started hurriedly forward.</p> + +<p>But the other checked him. “Wait!” he snapped, rising. “You +wait! You in too mooch hurry! You coom back–I have soomt’ing!”</p> + +<p>Felipe turned back, wondering. The other nervously produced material for a +cigarette. Then he cleared his throat with needless protraction.</p> + +<p>“Felipe,” he began, evidently laboring under excitement, “I +mek eet a <i>bet</i> now! I bet you,” he went on, his voice trembling with +fervor–“I bet you my wagon, thee horses–thee whole +shutting-match–against thot wagon and horses yours, and thee +harness–thee whole damned shutting-match–thot I haf win!” He +proceeded to finish his cigarette.</p> + +<p>Felipe stared at him hard. Surely his ears had deceived him! If they had not +deceived him, if, for a fact, the <i>hombre</i> had expressed a willingness to +bet all he had on the outcome of this thing, then Franke, fellow-townsman, +<i>compadre</i>, brother-wood-hauler, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_12'></a>12</span> was crazy! But he determined to find out.</p> + +<p>“What you said, Franke?” he asked, peering into the glowing eyes +of the other. “Say thot again, <i>hombre</i>!”</p> + +<p>“I haf say,” repeated the other, with lingering emphasis upon +each word–“I haf say I bet you everyt’ing–wagon, harness, +<i>caballos</i>–everyt’ing!–against thot wagon, harness, +<i>caballos</i> yours–everyt’ing–thee whole +shutting-match–thot I haf win thee bet!”</p> + +<p>Again Felipe lowered his eyes. But now to consider suspicions. He had heard +rightly; Franke really wanted to bet all he had. But he could not but wonder +whether Franke, by any possible chance, knew in advance the outcome of the +affair in the trail. He had heard of such things, though never had he believed +them possible. Yet he found himself troubled with insistent reminder that Franke +had suggested this whole thing. Then suddenly he was gripped in another +unwelcome thought. Could it be possible that this scheming <i>hombre</i>, +awaking at a time when he himself was soundest asleep, had gone out into the +trail on tiptoe for advance information? It was possible. Why not? But that was +not the point exactly. The point was, had he done it? Had this buzzard circled +out into the trail while he himself was asleep? He did not know, and he could +not decide! For the third time in ten hours, though puzzled and groping, +trembling between gain and loss, he plunged on the gambler’s chance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span>“All +right!” he agreed, tensely. “I take thot bet! I bet you thees wagon, +thees <i>caballos</i>, thees harness–everyt’ing–against everyt’ing +yours–wagon, horses, harness–everyt’ing! Wait!” he thundered, +for the other now was striding toward the mare. “Wait! You in too mooch +hurry yourself now!” Then, as the other returned: “Is eet a bet? Is +eet a bet?”</p> + +<p>The fellow-townsman nodded. Whereat Felipe nodded approval of the nod, and +stepped out into the trail, followed by the other.</p> + +<p>It was night, and quite a dark night. Stretching away to east and west, the +dimly outlined trail was lost abruptly in engulfing darkness; while, overhead, a +starless sky, low and somber and frowning, pressed close. But, dark though the +night was, it did not wholly conceal the outlines of the mare. She was standing +as they approached, mildly encouraging a tiny something beside her, a wisp of +life, her baby, who was struggling to insure continued existence. And it was +this second outline, not the other and larger outline, that held the breathless +attention of the men. Nervously Felipe struck a match. As it flared up he +stepped close, followed by the other, and there was a moment of tense silence. +Then the match went out and Felipe straightened up.</p> + +<p>“Franke,” he burst out, “I haf win thee bet! Eet is not a +mare; eet is a li’l’ horse!” He struck his <i>compadre</i> a +resounding blow on the back. “I am mooch sorry, Franke,” he +declared–“not!” He turned back to the faint outline of the +colt. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> “Thees +<i>potrillo</i>,” he observed, “he’s bringin’ me mooch +good luck! He’s–” He suddenly interrupted himself, aware that +the other was striding away. “Where you go now, Franke?” he asked, +and then, quick to sense approaching trouble: “Never mind thee big bet, +Franke! You can pay me ten dolars soom time! All right?”</p> + +<p>There was painful silence.</p> + +<p>“All right!” came the reply, finally, through the darkness.</p> + +<p>Then Felipe heard a lumber rigging go rattling off in the direction of the +canyon, and, suddenly remembering the money underneath the stone, hurried off +the trail in a spasm of alarm. He knelt in the sand and struck a match.</p> + +<p>The money had disappeared.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span><a id='link_2'></a>CHAPTER II<br /><span class='h2fs'>FELIPE CELEBRATES</span></h2> + +<p>It was well along in the morning when Felipe pulled up next day before his +little adobe house in the mountain settlement. The journey from the mesa below +had been, perforce, slow. The mare was still pitiably weak, and her condition +had necessitated many stops, each of long duration. Also, on the way up the +canyon the colt had displayed frequent signs of exhaustion, though only with the +pauses did he attempt rest.</p> + +<p>But it was all over now. They were safely before the house, with the colt +lying a little apart from his mother–regarding her with curious +intentness–and with Felipe bustling about the team and now and again +bursting out in song of questionable melody and rhythm. Felipe was preparing the +horses for the corral at the rear of the house, and soon he flung aside the +harness and seized each of the horses by the bridle.</p> + +<p>“Well, you li’l’ devil!” he exclaimed, addressing the +reclining colt. “You coom along now! You live in thees place back here! +You coom wit’ me now!” And he started around a corner of the +adobe.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span>The colt hastily +rose to his feet. But not at the command of the man. No such command was +necessary, for whither went his mother there went he. Close to her side, he +moved with her into the inclosure, crowding frantically over the bars, skinning +his knees in the effort, coming to a wide-eyed stand just inside the entrance, +and there surveying with nervous apprehension the corral’s +occupants–a burro, two pigs, a flock of chickens. But he held close to his +mother’s side.</p> + +<p>Felipe did not linger in the corral. Throwing off their bridles, he tossed +the usual scant supply of alfalfa to the horses, and filled their tub from a +near-by well. Then, after putting up the bars, he set out with determined stride +across the settlement. His direction was the general store, and his quest was +the loan of a horse, since his team now was broken, and would be broken for a +number of days to come.</p> + +<p>The store was owned and conducted by one Pedro Garcia. Pedro Garcia was the +mountain Shylock. He loaned money at enormous rates of interest, and he rented +out horses at prohibitive rates per day. Also, being what he was, Pedro had +gained his pounds of flesh–was alarmingly fat, with short legs of giant +circumference. Usually these legs were clothed in tight-fitting overalls, and +his small feet incased in boots of high-grade leather wonderfully roweled. Yet +many years had passed since Pedro had been seen in a saddle. Evidently he held +to the rowels in fond memory of his days of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_17'></a>17</span> slender youth and coltish gambolings. Pedro was +seated in his customary place upon an empty keg on the porch, and Felipe, +ignoring his grunted greeting, plunged at once into the purpose of his call.</p> + +<p>He had come to borrow a horse, Felipe explained. One of his own was unfit for +work, yet the cutting and drawing must go on. While the mare was recuperating, +he carefully pointed out, he himself could continue to earn money to meet some +of his pressing debts. Any kind of horse would do, he declared, so long as it +had four legs and was able to carry on the work. The horse need not have a +mouth, even, he added, jocosely, for reasons nobody need explain. After which he +sat down on the porch and awaited the august decision.</p> + +<p>Pedro remained silent a long time, the while he moistened his lips with +fitful tongue, and gazed across the tiny settlement reflectively. At length he +drew a deep breath, mixed of disgust and regret, and proceeded to make slow +reply.</p> + +<p>It was true, he began, that he had horses to rent. And it was further true, +he went on, deliberately, that he kept them for just this purpose. But–and +his pause was fraught with deep significance–it was no less true that +Felipe Montoya bore a bad reputation as a driver of horses–was known, +indeed, to kill horses through overwork and underfeed–and that, therefore, +to lend him a horse was like kissing the horse good-by and hitching up another +to the stone-boat. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> +Nevertheless, he hastened to add, if Felipe was in urgent need of a horse, and +was prepared to pay the customary small rate per day, and to <i>pay in +advance–cash–</i></p> + +<p>Here Pedro paused and popped accusing eyes at Felipe, in one strong dramatic +moment before continuing. But he did not continue. Felipe was the check. For +Felipe had leaped to his feet, and now stood brandishing an ugly fist underneath +the proprietor’s nose. Further–and infinitely worse–Felipe was +saying something.</p> + +<p>“Pedro Garcia,” he began, shrilly, “I must got a horse! And +I have coom for a horse! And I have thee money to pay for a horse! And if I kill +thot horse,” he went on, still brandishing his fist–“if thot +horse he’s dropping dead in thee harness–I pay you for thot horse! I +haf drive horses–”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si, si, si!</i>” began Pedro, interrupting.</p> + +<p>“I haf drive horses on thees trail ten years!” persisted Felipe, +yelling, “and in all thot time, Pedro Garcia, I’m killin’ only +seven horses, and all seven of thees horses is dyin’, Pedro Garcia, when I +haf buy them, and I haf buy all seven horses from you, Pedro Garcia, thief and +robber!” He paused to take a breath. “And not once, Pedro +Garcia,” he went on, “do I keeck about thot-a horse is a horse! But +I haf coom to you before! And I haf coom to you now! I must got a horse quick! +And I bringin’ thot horse back joost thee same as I’m gettin’ +thot horse–in good condition–better–because everybody is +knowin.’ I <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +feed a horse better than you feed a horse–and I’m +<i>cleanin’</i> the horse once in a while, too!” Which was a lie, +both as to the feeding and the cleaning, as he well knew, and as, indeed, he +well knew Pedro knew, who, nevertheless, nodded grave assent.</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>,” admitted Pedro. “<i>Pero +ustede–</i>”</p> + +<p>“A horse!” thundered Felipe, interrupting, his neck cords +dangerously distended. “You give me a horse–you hear? I want a +horse–a horse! I don’ coom here for thee talk!”</p> + +<p>Pedro rose hastily from the keg. Also, he grunted quick consent. Then he +stepped inside the store, followed by Felipe, who made several needed purchases, +and, since he had his enemy cowed, and was troubled with thirst created by the +protracted harangue, to say nothing of the strong inclination within him to +celebrate the coming of the colt, he made a purchase that was not needed–a +bottle of <i>vino</i>, cool and dry from Pedro’s cellar. With these tucked +securely under his arm, he then calmly informed Pedro of the true state of his +finances, and left the store, returning across the settlement, which lay wrapped +in pulsating noonday quiet. In the shade of his adobe he sat upon the ground, +with his back comfortably against the wall. Directly the quiet was broken by two +distinct sounds–the pop of a cork out of the neck of a bottle, and the +gurgle of liquid into the mouth of a man.</p> + +<p>Thus Felipe set out upon a protracted debauch. In this debauch he did nothing +worth while. He <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span> used +neither the borrowed horse nor his own sound one. Each day saw him redder of eye +and more swollen of lip; each day saw him increasingly heedless of his debts; +each day saw him more neglectful of his duties toward his animals. The one +bottle became two bottles, the two bottles became three, each secured only after +threatened assault upon the body of Pedro, each adding its store to the already +deep conviviality and reckless freedom from all cares now Felipe’s. He +forgot everything–forgot the stolen money, forgot the colt, forgot the +needs of the mare–all in exhilarated pursuit of phantoms.</p> + +<p>Yet the colt did not suffer. Becoming ever more confident of himself as the +days passed, he soon revealed pronounced curiosity and an aptitude for play. He +would stare at strutting roosters, gaze after straddling hens, blink quizzically +at the burro, frown upon the grunting pigs, all as if cataloguing these +specimens, listing them in his thoughts, some day to make good use of the +knowledge. But most of all he showed interest in and playfulness toward his +mother and her doings. He would follow her about untiringly, pausing whenever +she paused, starting off again whenever she started off–seemingly bent +upon acquiring the how and why of her every movement.</p> + +<p>But it was his playfulness finally that brought him first needless suffering. +The mare was standing with her nose in the feed-box. She had stood thus many +times during the past week; but usually, before, the box had been empty, whereas +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> now it contained a +generous quantity of alfalfa. But this the colt did not know. He only knew that +he was interested in this thing, and so went there to attempt, as many times +before, to reach his nose into the mysterious box. Finding that he could not, he +began, as never before, to frisk about the mare, tossing up his little heels and +throwing down his head with all the reckless abandon of a seasoned +“outlaw.” He could do these things because he was a rare colt, +stronger than ever colt before was at his age, and for a time the mare suffered +his antics with a look of pleased toleration. But as he kept it up, and as she +was getting her first real sustenance since the day of his coming, she at length +became fretful and sounded a low warning. But this the colt did not heed. +Instead he wheeled suddenly and plunged directly toward her, bunting her +sharply. Nor did the single bunt satisfy him. Again and again he attacked her, +plunging in and darting away each time with remarkable celerity, until, her +patience evidently exhausted, she whisked her head around and nipped him +sharply. Screaming with pain and fright, he plunged from her, sought the +opposite side of the inclosure, and turned upon her a pair of very hurt and +troubled eyes.</p> + +<p>Yet all the world over mothers are mothers. After a time–a long time, +as if to let her punishment sink in–the mare made her way slowly to the +colt, and there fell to licking him, seeming to tell him of her lasting +forgiveness. Under this lavish caressing the colt, as if to reveal his own <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> forgiveness for the +dreadful hurt, bestowed similar attention upon her–in this attention, +though he did not know it, softening flesh that had experienced no such +consideration in years. Thus they stood, side by side, mother and son, long into +the day, laying the foundation of a love that never dies–that strengthens, +in fact, with the years, though all else fail–love between mother and her +offspring.</p> + +<p>Other things, things of minor consequence, added their mite to his early +development. One morning, while the mare was asleep, the colt, alert and +standing, was startled by the sudden movement of a large rooster. The rooster +had left the ground with loud flapping of wings, and now stood perched upon the +corral fence, like a grim and mighty conqueror, ruffling his neck feathers and +twisting his head in pre-eminent satisfaction. But the colt did not understand +this. Transfixed, he turned frightened eyes upon the cause of the unearthly +commotion. Then suddenly, with another loud flapping of wings, the rooster +uttered a defiant crow, a challenge that echoed far through the canyon. Whereat +the colt, eyes wide with terror, whirled to his mother, whimpering babyishly. +But with the mare standing beside him and caressing him reassuringly, all his +nervousness left him, and he again turned his eyes upon the rooster and watched +him till the cock, unable to stir combat among his neighbors, left the fence +with another loud flapping of wings, and returned to earth, physically and +spiritually, there to set <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_23'></a>23</span> up his customary feigned quest for worms for the +ladies. But the point was this–with this last flapping of wings the colt +remained in a state of perfect calm.</p> + +<p>Thus he learned, and thus he continued to learn, in nervous fear one moment, +in perfect calm the next. And though his hours of life were few indeed, he +nevertheless revealed an intelligence far above the average of his kind. He +learned to avoid the mare’s whisking tail, to shun or remove molesting +flies, to keep away from the mare when she was at the feed-box. All of which +told of his uncommon strain, as did the rapidity with which he gained strength, +which last told of his tremendous vitality, and which some day would serve him +well against trouble.</p> + +<p>Yet in it all lurked the great mystery, and Felipe, blustering to occasional +natives outside the fence during his week of debauch, while pointing out with +pride the colt’s very evident blooded lineage, yet could tell nothing of +that descent. All he could point out was that the mare was chestnut-brown, and +when not in harness was kept close within the confines of the corral, while here +was a colt of a dark-fawn color which would develop with maturity into +coal-black. And there was not a single black horse in the mountains for miles +and miles around. Nor was the colt a “throw-back,” +because–</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” he would conclude, casting bleared eyes in the +direction of the house, wearily, “I got soom <i>vino</i> inside. You coom +along now. We go <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +gettin’ a drink.” Which would close the monologue.</p> + +<p>One morning early, Felipe, asleep on a bed that never was made up, heard +suspicious sounds in the corral outside. He sprang up and, clad only in a +fiery-red undershirt, hurried to a window. Cautiously letting down the bars, +with a rope already tied around the colt’s neck, was the mountain Shylock, +Pedro Garcia, intent upon leading off the innocent new-comer. Pedro no doubt had +perceived an opportunity either to force Felipe to meet some of his debts, or +else hold the colt as a very acceptable chattel. Also, he evidently had +calculated upon early dawn as the time best suited to do this thing, in view of +Felipe’s long debauch upon unpaid-for wine. At any rate, there he was, +craftily letting down the bars. Raging with indignation and a natural venom +which he felt toward the storekeeper, Felipe flung up the window.</p> + +<p>“<i>Buenos dias, señor!</i>” he greeted, cheerfully, with effort +controlling his anger. “Thee early worm he’s takin’ thee +<i>potrillo</i>! How cooms thot, <i>señor</i>?” he asked, enjoying the +other’s sudden discomfiture. “You takin’ thot li’l’ +horse for thee walk–thee exercise?” And then, without waiting for a +reply, had there been one forthcoming, which there was not, he slammed down the +window, leaped to the door, flung it open–all levity now gone from him. +“Pedro Garcia!” he raged. “You thief and robber! I’m +killin’ you thees time sure!” And, regardless of his scant <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span> attire, and stringing out +a volley of oaths, he sprang out of the doorway after his intended victim.</p> + +<p>But Pedro Garcia, though fat, was surprisingly quick on his feet. He dropped +the rope and burst into a run, heading frantically past the house toward the +trail. And, though Felipe leaped after him, still clad only in fiery-red +undershirt, the storekeeper gained the trail and set out at top speed across the +settlement. Felipe pursued. Hair aflaunt, shirt-tail whipping in the breeze, +bare feet paddling in the dust of the trail, naked legs crossing each other like +giant scissors in frenzied effort, he hurtled forward exactly one leap behind +his intended victim. He strained to close up the gap, but he could not overtake +the equally speedy Pedro, whose short legs fairly buzzed in the terror of their +owner. Thus they ran, mounting the slight rise before the general store, then +descending into the heart of the settlement, with Pedro whipping along +frantically, and Felipe still one whole leap behind, until a derisive shout, a +feminine exclamation of shrieking glee, awoke Felipe to the spectacle he was +making of himself before the eyes of the community. He stopped; growled +disappointed rage; darted back along the trail. Once in the privacy of his +house, he hurriedly donned his clothes and gave himself over to deliberations. +The result of these deliberations was that he concluded to return to work.</p> + +<p>After a scant breakfast of chili and coffee he <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> moved out to the corral. He leaned his +arms upon the fence and surveyed the colt with fresh interest.</p> + +<p>“Thot li’l’ <i>caballo</i>,” he began, “he’s +bringin’ me mooch good luck. Thot <i>potrillo</i> he’s wort’ +seven–he’s wort’–<i>si</i>–eight dolars–thot +<i>potrillo</i>. I t’ink I haf sell heem, too–queek–in town! But +first I must go cuttin’ thee wood!” With this he let down the bars +and entered the inclosure. Then his thoughts took an abrupt turn. “I keel +thot Pedro Garcia soomtime–bet you’ life! He’s stealin’ +fleas off a dog–thot <i>hombre</i>!”</p> + +<p>Felipe drove the borrowed horse out of the inclosure, and then singled out +the mate to the mare. As he harnessed up this horse, the colt, standing close +by, revealed marked interest. Also, as Felipe led the horse out of the corral +the colt followed till shut off by the bars, which Felipe hurriedly put up. But +they did not discourage him. He remained very close to them, peering out between +the while Felipe hitched the team to his empty lumber rigging. Then came the +crack of a whip, loud creaking of greaseless wheels, the voice of Felipe in +lusty demand, all as the outfit set out up the trail toward the timber-slopes. +But not till the earth was still again, the cloud of dust in the trail +completely subsided, did the colt turn away from the bars and seek his mother, +and then with a look in his soft-blinking eyes that told of concentrated +pondering on these mysteries of life.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span><a id='link_3'></a>CHAPTER III<br /><span class='h2fs'>A SURPRISE</span></h2> + +<p>Next morning, having returned from the timber-slopes, Felipe, fresh and +radiant, appeared outside the corral in holiday attire. Part of this attire was +a pair of brand-new overalls. Indeed, the overalls were so new that they +crackled; and Felipe appeared quite conscious of their newness, for he let down +the bars with great care, and with even greater care stepped into the inclosure. +Then it was seen, since he was a Mexican who ran true to form, there was a flaw +in all this splendor. For he had drawn on the new overalls over the older +pair–worse, had drawn them on over <i>two</i> older pairs, as revealed at +the bottoms, where peered plaintively two shades of blue–lighter blue of +the older pair, very light blue of the oldest pair–the effect of exposure +to desert suns. So Felipe had on three pairs of overalls. Yet this was not all +of distinction. Around his brown throat was a bright red neckerchief, while +between the unbuttoned edges of his vest was an expanse of bright +green–the coloring of a tight-fitting sweater.</p> + +<p>There was reason for all this. Felipe was going to town, and he was taking +the mare along with <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +him, and the mare naturally would take her colt; and because he had come to know +the value of the colt, Felipe wished to appear as prosperous in the eyes of the +Americans in town as he believed the owner of so fine a colt ought to +appear.</p> + +<p>Therefore, still careful of his overalls, he set about leisurely to prepare +the team for the journey. He crossed to the shed, hauled out the harness, tossed +it out into the inclosure. Promptly both horses stepped into position. Also, the +older mare, whether through relief or regret, sounded a shrill nicker. This +brought the colt to her side, where he fell to licking her affectionately, +showing his great love for her bony frame. And when Felipe led the horses out of +the corral he followed close beside her, and when outside held close to her +throughout the hitching, and to the point even when Felipe clambered to the top +of the high load and caught up the reins and the whip. Then he stepped back, +wriggling his fuzzy little tail and blinking his big eyes curiously.</p> + +<p>“Well, <i>potrillo</i>,” began Felipe, grinning down upon the +tiny specimen of life, “we goin’ now to town! But first you must be +ready! You ready? All right! We go now!” And he cracked the whip over the +team.</p> + +<p>They started forward, slowly at first, the wagon giving off many creaks and +groans, then fast and faster, until, well in the descent of the hard canyon +trail, the horses were jogging along quite briskly.</p> + +<p>The colt showed the keenest interest and delight. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> For a time he trotted beside the mare, +ears cocked forward expectantly, eyes sweeping the canyon alertly, hoofs lifting +to ludicrous heights. Then, as the first novelty wore off, and he became more +certain of himself in these swift-changing surroundings, he revealed a +playfulness that tickled Felipe. He would lag behind a little, race madly +forward, sometimes run far ahead of the team in his great joy. But he seemed +best to like to lag. He would come to a sudden stop and, motionless as a dog +pointing a bird, gaze out across the canyon a long time, like one trying to find +himself in a strange and wonderful world. Or, standing thus, he would reveal +curious interest in the rocks and stumps around him, and he would stare at them +fixedly, blinking slowly, a look of genuine wonderment in his big, soft eyes. +Then he would strain himself mightily to overtake the wagon.</p> + +<p>Once in a period of absorbed attention he lost sight of the outfit +completely. This was due not so much to his distance in the rear as to the fact +that the wagon, having struck a bend in the trail, had turned from view. But he +did not know that. Sounding a baby outcry of fear, he scurried ahead at +breakneck speed, frantic heels tossing up tiny spurts of dust, head stretched +forward–and thus soon caught up. After that he remained close beside his +mother until the wagon, rocking down the mouth of the canyon, swung out upon the +broad mesa. Here the outfit could be seen for miles, and now he took to lagging +behind again, and to frisking far ahead, always returning at frequent <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> intervals for the motherly +assurance that all was well.</p> + +<p>As part of the Great Scheme, all this was good for him. In his brief panic +when out of sight of his mother he was taught how very necessary she was to his +existence. In his running back and forth, with now and again breathless +speeding, he developed the muscles of his body, to the end that later he might +well take up an independent fight for life. In the curious interest he displayed +in all subjects about him he lent unknowing assistance to a spiritual +development as necessary as physical development. All this prepared him to meet +men and measures as he was destined to meet them–with gentleness, with +battle,–with affection–like for like–as he found it. It was +all good for him, this movement, this change of environment, this quick +awakening of interest. It shaped him in both body and spirit to the Great +Purpose.</p> + +<p>This interest seemed unbounded. Whenever a jack-rabbit shot across the trail, +or a covey of birds broke from the sand-hills, he would come to a quick pause +and blink curiously, seeming to understand and approve, and to be grateful, as +if all these things were done for him. Also, with each halt Felipe made with +<i>compadres</i> along the trail, friends who entered with him in loud badinage +over the ownership of the colt–an ownership all vigorously denied +him–the colt himself would cock his ears and fix his eyes, seemingly aware +of his importance and pleased to be the object of <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span> the cutting remarks. And thus the miles +from mountain to the outskirts of town were covered, miles pleasurable to him, +every inch revealing something of fresh interest, every mile finding him more +accustomed to the journey.</p> + +<p>They reached a point on the outskirts where streets appeared, sharply defined +thoroughfares, interlacing one with the other. And as they advanced vehicles +began to turn in upon the trail, a nondescript collection ranging from an Indian +farm-wagon off the Navajo reservation to the north to a stanhope belonging to +some more affluent American in the suburbs. With them came also many strange +sounds–Mexican oaths, mild Indian commands, light man-to-man greetings of +the day. Also there was much cracking of whips and nickering of horses along the +line. And the result of all this was that the colt revealed steadily increasing +nervousness, a condition enhanced by the fact that his mother, held rigidly to +her duties by Felipe, could bestow upon her offspring but very little attention. +But he held close to her, and thus moved into the heart of town, when suddenly +one by one the vehicles ahead came to a dead stop. Felipe, perched high, saw +that the foremost wagons had reached the railroad crossing, and that there was a +long freight-train passing through.</p> + +<p>Team after team came into the congestion and stopped. Cart and wagon and +phaeton closed in around the colt. There was much maneuvering for space. The +colt’s nervousness increased, and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_32'></a>32</span> became positive fear. He darted wild eyes about him. +He was completely hedged in. On his right loomed a large horse; behind him stood +a drowsing team; on his left was a dirt-cart; while immediately in front, such +was his position now, stood his mother. But, though gripped in fear, he remained +perfectly still until the locomotive, puffing and wheezing along at the rear of +the train, having reached the crossing, sounded a piercing shriek. This was more +than he could stand. Without a sound he dodged and whirled. He plunged to the +rear and rammed into the drowsing team; darted to the right and into the teeth +of the single horse; whirled madly to the left, only to carom off the hub of a +wheel. But with all this defeat he did not stop. He set up a wild series of +whirling plunges, and, completely crazed now, darted under the single horse, +under a Mexican wagon, under a team of horses, and forth into a little clearing. +Here he came to a stop, trembling in every part, gazing about in wildest +terror.</p> + +<p>Following its shrill blast, the engine puffed across the crossing, the gates +slowly lifted, and the foremost vehicles began to move. Soon the whole line was +churning up clouds of dust and rattling across the railroad tracks. Felipe was +of this company, cracking his whip and yelling lustily, enjoying the congestion +and this unexpected opportunity to be seen by so many American eyes at once in +his gorgeous raiment. In the town proper, and carefully avoiding the more +rapidly moving vehicles, he turned off the avenue into a <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> narrow side street, and pulled up at a +water-trough. As he dropped the reins and prepared to descend, a friend of +his–and he had many–hailed him from the sidewalk. Hastily clambering +down, he seized the man’s arm in forceful greeting, and indicated with a +jerk of his head a near-by saloon.</p> + +<p>“We go gettin’ soomt’ing,” he invited. “I have munch +good luck to tell you.”</p> + +<p>Inside the establishment Felipe became loquacious and boasting. He now was a +man of comfortable wealth, he gravely informed his friend–a wizened +individual with piercing eyes. Besides winning a bet of fifteen dollars in +money, he explained, he also held a note against Franke Gamboa for fifty dollars +more on his property. But that was not all. Aside from the note and the cash in +hand, he was the owner of a colt now of great value–<i>si</i>–worth +at least ten dollars–which, added to the other, made him, as anybody could +see, worthy of recognition. With this he placed his empty glass down on the bar +and swung over into English.</p> + +<p>“You haf hear about thot?” he asked, drawing the back of his hand +across his mouth. Then, as the other shook his head negatively, “Well, I +haf new one–<i>potrillo</i>–nice li’l’ +horse–<i>si</i>!” He cleared his throat and frowned at the listening +bartender. “He’s comin’ couple days before, oop on thee +mesa.” He picked up the glass, noted that it was empty, placed it down +again. “I’m sellin’ thot <i>potrillo</i> quick,” he went +on–“bet you’ life! <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_34'></a>34</span> I feed heem couple weeks more mebbe–feed heem +beer and soom cheese!” He laughed raucously at the alleged witticism. +“Thot’s thee preencipal t’ing,” he declared, soberly. +“You must feed a horse.” He said this not as one recommending that a +horse be well fed, but as one advising that a horse be given something to eat +occasionally. “<i>Si!</i> Thot’s thee preencipal t’ing! Then +he’s makin’ a fast goer–bet you’ life! I haf give +heem–” He suddenly interrupted himself and laid firm hold upon the +man’s arm. “You coom wit’ me!” he invited, and began to +drag the other toward the swing-doors. “You coom look at thot +<i>potrillo</i>!”</p> + +<p>They went outside. On the curb, Felipe gazed about him, first with a look of +pride, then with an expression of blank dismay. He stepped down off the curb, +roused the drowsing mare with a vigorous clap, again looked about him worriedly. +After a long moment he left the team, walking out into the middle of the street, +and strained his eyes in both directions. Then he returned and, heedless of his +new overalls, got down upon his knees, sweeping bleared eyes under the wagon. +And finally, with a last despairing gaze in every direction, he sat down upon +the curb and buried his face in his arms.</p> + +<p>For the colt was gone!</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span><a id='link_4'></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><span class='h2fs'>A NEW HOME</span></h2> + +<p>With the beginning of the forward movement across the railroad the colt, ears +cocked and eyes alert, moved across also. Close about him stepped other horses, +and over and around him surged a low murmuring, occasionally broken by the crack +of a whip. Yet these sounds did not seem to disturb him. He trotted along, +crossing the tracks, and when on the opposite side set out straight down the +avenue. The avenue was broad, and in this widening area the congestion rapidly +thinned, and soon the colt was quite alone in the open. But he continued +forward, seeming not to miss his mother, until there suddenly loomed up beside +him a very fat and very matronly appearing horse. Then he hesitated, turning +apprehensive eyes upon her. But not for long. Evidently accepting this horse as +his mother, he fell in close beside her and trotted along again in perfect +composure.</p> + +<p>Behind this horse was a phaeton, and in the phaeton sat two persons. They +were widely different in age. One was an elderly man, broad of shoulders and +with a ruddy face faintly threaded <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_36'></a>36</span> with purple; the other was a young girl, not more +than seventeen, his daughter, with a face sweet and alert, and a mass of +chestnut hair–all imparting a certain esthetic beauty. Like the man, the +girl was ruddy of complexion, though hers was the bloom of youth, while his was +toll taken from suns and winds of the desert. The girl was the first to discover +the colt.</p> + +<p>“Daddy!” she exclaimed, placing a restraining hand upon the +other. “Whose beautiful colt is that?”</p> + +<p>The Judge pulled down his horse and leaned far out over the side. “Why, +I don’t know, dear!” he replied, after a moment, then turned his +eyes to the rear. “He must belong with some team in that crush.”</p> + +<p>The girl regarded the colt with increasing rapture. “Isn’t he a +perfect dear!” she went on. “Look at him, daddy!” she suddenly +urged, delightedly. “He’s dying to know why we stopped!” +Which, indeed, the colt looked to be, since he had come to a stop with the mare +and now was regarding them curiously. “I’d love to pet +him!”</p> + +<p>The Judge frowned. “We’re late for luncheon,” he declared, +and again gazed to the rear. “We’d better take him along with us out +to the ranch. To-morrow I’ll advertise him in the papers.” And he +shook up the mare. “We’d better go along, Helen.”</p> + +<p>“Just one minute, daddy!” persisted the girl, gathering up her +white skirts and, as the Judge pulled down, leaping lightly out of the phaeton. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> “I’ve +simply <i>got</i> to pet him!” She cautiously approached the colt.</p> + +<p>He permitted her this approach. Nor did he shy at her outstretched hand. +Under her gentle caresses he stood very still, and when she stooped before him, +as she did presently, bringing her eyes upon a level with his own, he gazed into +them very frankly and earnestly, as if gauging this person, as he had seemed to +tabulate all other things, some day to make good use of his knowledge. After a +time the girl spoke.</p> + +<p>“I wish I could keep you always,” she said, poutingly. “You +look so nice and babyish!” But she knew that she could not keep him, and +after a time she stood up again and sighed, and fell to stroking him +thoughtfully. “I’ll have you to-day, anyway,” she declared, +finally, with promise of enjoyment in her voice, as one who meant to make the +most of it. Then she got back into the phaeton.</p> + +<p>The Judge started up the horse again. They continued through the town, and +when on its northwestern outskirts turned to the right along a trail that +paralleled the river. The trail ran north and south, and on either side of it, +sometimes shielding a secluded ranch, always forming an agreeable oasis in the +flat brown of the country, rose an occasional clump of cottonwoods. The +ranch-houses were infrequent, however; all of them were plentifully supplied +with water by giant windmills which clacked and creaked above the trees in the +high-noon breeze. To the left, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_38'></a>38</span> across the river, back from the long, slow rise of +sand from the water’s edge, rose five blunt heights like craters long +extinct; while above these, arching across the heavens in spotless sheen, curved +the turquoise dome of a southwestern midday sky, flooding the dust and dunes +below in throbbing heat-rays. It was God’s own section of earth, and not +the least beautiful of its vistas, looming now steadily ahead on their right, +was the place belonging to Judge Richards. House and outhouses white, and just +now aglint in the white light of the sun, the whole ranch presented the +appearance of diamonds nestling in a bed of emerald-green velvet. Turning off at +this ranch, the Judge tossed the reins to a waiting Mexican.</p> + +<p>Helen was out of the phaeton like a flash. Carefully guiding the colt around +the house and across a <i>patio</i>, she turned him loose into a spacious +corral. Then she fell to watching him, and she continued to watch him until a +voice from the house, that of an aged Mexican woman who presided over the +kitchen, warned her that dinner was waiting. Reluctantly hugging the +colt–hugging him almost savagely in her sudden affection for him–she +then turned to leave, but not without a word of explanation.</p> + +<p>“I must leave you now, honey!” she said, much as a child would +take leave of her doll. “But I sha’n’t be away from you long, +and when I come back I’ll see what I can do about feeding you!”</p> + +<p>The colt stood for a time, peering between the <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> corral boards after her. Then he set out +upon a round of investigation. He moved slowly along the inside of the fence, +seeming to approve its whitewashed cleanliness, until, turning in a corner, he +stood before the stable door. Here he paused a moment, gazing into the +semi-gloom, then sprang up the one step. Inside, he stood another moment, +sweeping eyes down past the stalls, and finally set out and made his way to the +far end. In the stall next the last stood a brown saddle-horse, and in the last +stall the matronly horse he had followed out from town. But he showed no +interest in these, bestowing upon each merely a passing glance. Then, +discovering that the flies bothered him here more than in the corral, he walked +back to the door and out into the sunlight again. In the corral he took up his +motionless stand in the corner nearest the house.</p> + +<p>He did not stand thus for long. He soon revealed grave uneasiness. It was due +to a familiar gnawing inside. He knew the relief for this, and promptly set out +in search of his mother. He hurried back along the fence, gained the door of the +stable, and stepped into the stable, this time upon urgent business. He trotted +down past the stalls to the family horse, and without hesitation stepped in +alongside of her. Directly there was a shrill nicker, a lightning flash of +heels, and the colt lay sprawling on the stable floor.</p> + +<p>Never was there a colt more astonished than this one. Dazed, trembling, he +regained his feet and looked at the mare, looked hard. Then casting <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span> solicitous eyes in the +direction of the saddle-horse, he stepped in alongside. But here he met with +even more painful objections. The horse reached around and bit him sharply in +the neck. It hurt, hurt awfully, but he persisted, only to receive another sharp +bite, this time more savage. Sounding a baby whimper of despair, he ran back to +the door and out into the motherless corral.</p> + +<p>He made for the corner nearest the house. But he did not stand still. He +cocked his ears, pawed the ground, turned again and again, swallowed frequently. +And presently he set out once more in search of his mother; though this time he +wisely kept out of the stable. He held close to the fence, following it around +and around, pausing now and again with eyes strained between the boards. But he +could not find his mother. Finally, resorting to the one effort left to him that +might bring result, he flung up his little head and sounded a piteous +call–not once, but many times.</p> + +<p>“Aunty,” declared the girl, rushing into the genial presence of +the Mexican cook, “what shall I do about that colt? He must be +hungry!”</p> + +<p>The old woman nodded and smiled knowingly. Then she stepped into the pantry. +She filled a long-necked bottle with milk and sugar and a dash of lime-water, +and, placing the bottle in the girl’s hands, shoved her gently out the +door and into the <i>patio</i>.</p> + +<p>Racing across to the corral, Helen reached the colt with much-needed aid. He +closed upon the bottle with an eagerness that seemed to tell he <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> had known no other method +of feeding. Also, he clung to it till the last drop was gone, which caused Helen +to wonder when last the colt had fed. Then, as if by way of reward for this +kindly attention, he tossed his head suddenly, striking the bottle out of her +hands. This was play; and Helen, girlishly delighted, sprang toward him. He +leaped away, however, and, coming to a stand at a safe distance, wriggled his +ears at her mischievously. She sprang toward him again; but again he darted +away. Whereupon she raced after him, pursuing him around the inclosure, the colt +frisking before her, kicking up his heels and nickering shrilly, until, through +breathlessness, she was forced to stop. Then the colt stopped, and after a time, +having regarded her steadfastly, invitingly, he seemed to understand, for he +quietly approached her. As he came close she stooped before him.</p> + +<p>“Honey dear,” she began, eyes on a level with his own, +“they have telephoned the city officials, and your case will be advertised +to-morrow in the papers. But I do wish that I could keep you.” She peered +into his slow-blinking eyes thoughtfully. “Brownie–my +saddle-horse–is all stable-ridden, and I need a good saddler. And some day +you would be grown, and I could–could take lots of comfort with +you.” She was silent. “Anyway,” she concluded, rising and +stroking him absently, “we’ll see. Though I hope–and I know it +isn’t a bit right–that nothing comes of the advertisement; or, if +something does come of it, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_42'></a>42</span> that your rightful owner will prove willing to sell +you after a time.” With this she picked up the bottle and left him.</p> + +<p>And nothing did come of the advertisement. Felipe did not read the papers, +and his knowledge of city affairs was such that he did not set up intelligent +quest for the colt.</p> + +<p>So the colt remained in the Richards’ corral. Regularly two and three +times a day the girl came to feed him, and regularly as his reward each time he +bunted the bottle out of her hand afterward. Also, between meals she spent much +time in his society, and on these occasions relieved the tedium of his diet with +loaf sugar, and, after a while, quartered apples. For these sweets he soon +developed a passion, and he would watch her comings with a feverish anxiety that +always brought a smile to her ready lips. And thus began, and thus went on, +their friendship, a friendship that with the passing months ripened into +strongest attachment, but which presently was to be interrupted for a long +time.</p> + +<p>Hint of this came to him gradually. From spending long periods with him every +day his mistress, after each feeding now, took to hurrying away from him. +Sometimes, so great was her haste to get back to the house, she actually ran out +of the corral. It worried him, and he would follow her to the gate, and there +stand with nose between the boards and eyes turned after her, whimpering softly. +And finally, with his bottle displaced by more solid food, and the visits of his +mistress <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> becoming +less frequent, he awoke to certain mysterious arrivals and departures in a buggy +of a sharp-eyed woman all in black, and he came to feel, by reason of his +super-animal instinct, that something of a very grave nature was about to happen +to him. Then one morning late in August he experienced that which made his fears +positive convictions, though precisely what it was he did not immediately +know.</p> + +<p>His mistress stepped into the corral with her usual briskness, and, walking +deliberately past him, turned up an empty box in a far corner and sat down upon +it, and called to him. From the instant of her entrance he had held himself +back, but when she called him he rushed eagerly to her side. She placed her arms +around his neck, drew his head down into her lap, and proceeded to unfold a +story–later, tearful.</p> + +<p>“It’s all settled,” she began, with a restful sigh. +“We have discussed it for weeks, and I’ve had a dreadful time of it, +and aunty–my Mexican aunty, you know–and my other aunty, my regular +aunty–I have no mother–and everybody–got so excited I +didn’t really know them for my own, and daddy flared up a little, +and–and–” She paused and sighed again. “But finally they +let me have my own way about it–though daddy called it ‘infant +tommyrot’–and so here it is!” She tilted up his head and +looked into his eyes. “You, sir,” she then went on–“you, +sir, from this day and date–I reckon that is how daddy would say +it–you, sir, from this day and date <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_44'></a>44</span> shall be known as Pat. Your name, sir, is +Pat–P-a-t–Pat! I don’t know whether you like it or not, of +course! But I do know that I like it, and under the circumstances I reckon +that’s all that is necessary.” Then came the tears. “But that +isn’t all, Pat dear,” she went on, tenderly. “I have something +else to tell you, though it hurts dreadfully for me to do it. But–but +I’m going away to school. I’m going East, to be gone a long time. I +want to go, though,” she added, gazing soberly into his eyes; “yet I +am afraid to leave you alone with Miguel. Miguel doesn’t like to have you +around, and I know it, and I am afraid he will be cruel to you. But–but +I’ve got to go now. The dressmaker has been coming for over a month; +and–and I’m not even coming home for vacation. I am to visit +relatives, or something, in New York–or somewhere–and the whole +thing is arranged. But I–I don’t seem to want–to–to go +away now!” Which was where the tears fell. “If things–things +could only be–be put off! But I–I know they can’t!” She +was silent, silent a long time, gazing off toward the distant mountains through +tear-bedimmed eyes. “But when I do come back,” she concluded, +finally, brightening, “you will have grown to a great size, Pat dear, and +then we can go up on the mesa and ride and ride. Can’t we?” And she +hugged him convulsively. “It will be glorious. Won’t it?”</p> + +<p>He didn’t exactly say. His interest was elsewhere, and, resisting her +hugging, he began to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +nuzzle her hands for sweets. Whereupon she burst into laughter and forcibly +hugged him again.</p> + +<p>“I forgot,” she declared, regretfully. “You shall have +them, though–right away!” Then she arose and left him–left him +a very much mystified colt. But when she returned with what he sought he looked +his delight, and closed over the sweets with an eagerness that forced her into +sober reflection. “Pat,” she said, after a time, “I +don’t think you care one single bit for me! All you care about, I’ll +bet, is what I bring you to eat!” Then she began to stroke him. +“Just the same,” she concluded, after a while, tenderly, +“you’re the dearest colt that ever lived!” She dallied with +him a moment longer, then abruptly left him, running back to the house.</p> + +<p>The days which followed, however, were full of delight for him. Now that the +mysterious activity in the house was over with, his mistress began to visit him +again with more than frequent regularity. And with each visit she would remain +with him a long time, caressing him, talking to him, as had been her wont in the +earlier days of their friendship. But as against those earlier days he had +changed. Possibly this was due to her absence. Instead of frisking about the +inclosure now, as he had used to frisk–whirling madly from her in +play–he would remain very still during her visits, standing motionless +under her caresses and love-talk. Also, when she took herself off each time, +instead of hurrying frantically after her to the gate, he would walk slowly, +even <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> sedately, into +his corner, the one nearest the house, and there watch her soberly till she +disappeared indoors. Then–further evidence of the change that had come +upon him–he would lie down in the warm sunlight and there fight flies, +although before he had been given to worrying the family horse or irritating the +brown saddler–all with nervous playfulness.</p> + +<p>And he was dozing in his corner that morning when his mistress came +fluttering to him to say good-by. He slowly rose to his feet and blinked +curiously at her.</p> + +<p>“Pat dear,” she exclaimed, breathlessly, “I’m going +now!” She flung her arms around his neck, held him tightly to her a +moment, then stepped back. “You–you must be good while–while +I’m gone!” And dashing away a persistent tear, she then hurriedly +left him, speeding across the <i>patio</i> and stepping into the waiting +phaeton.</p> + +<p>He watched the vehicle roll out into the trail. And though he did not +understand, though the seriousness of it all was denied him, he nevertheless +remained close to the fence a long time; long after the phaeton had passed from +view, long after the sound of the mare’s paddling feet had died away, he +stood there, ears cocked, eyes wide, tail motionless, in an attitude of +receptivity, spiritual absorption, as one flicked with unwelcome +premonitions.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span><a id='link_5'></a>CHAPTER V<br /><span class='h2fs'>LONELINESS</span></h2> + +<p>Pat’s mistress was gone. He realized it from his continued disappointed +watching for her at the fence; he realized it from the utter absence out of life +of the sweets he had learned to love so well; and he realized it most of all +from the change which rapidly came over the Mexican hostler. Though he did not +know it, Miguel had been instructed, and in no mistakable language, to take good +care of him, and, among other things, to keep him healthily supplied with +sweets. But Miguel was not interested in colts, much less in anything that meant +additional labor for him, and so Pat was made to suffer. Yet in this, as in all +the other things, lay a wonderful good. He was made to know that he was not +wholly a pampered thing–was made to feel the other side of life, the side +of bitterness and disappointment, the side at times of actual want. And this +continued denial of wants, of needs, occasionally, hardened him, as his earlier +experiences had hardened him, toughened him for the struggles to come, brought +to him that which is good for all youth–realization that life is not a +mere span <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> of days +with sweets and comforts for the asking, but a time of struggle, a battle for +supremacy, and it is only through the battle that one grows fit and ever more +fit for the good of the All.</p> + +<p>Not the least of his trials was great loneliness. One day was so very like +another. Regularly each morning, after seeking out his favorite corner in the +corral, he would see the sun step from the mountain-tops, ascend through a cool +morning, pour down scorching midday rays, descend through a tense afternoon, and +drop from view in the chill of evening. Always he would watch this thing, +sometimes standing, other times reclining, but ever conscious of the dread +monotony of it all. Nothing happened, nobody came to caress him, no one paid him +the least attention. A forlorn colt, a lonely colt, doubly so for lack of a +mother, he spent long days in moody contemplation of an existence that +irked.</p> + +<p>One day, however, came something of interest into the monotony of his life. +Evidently tiring of attending each horse in turn in the stalls, Miguel built a +general box for feed in one corner of the inclosure, and then, by dint of loud +swearing and the free use of a pitchfork, instructed the colt to feed from it +with the others. Not that Pat required instruction as to the feeding +itself–he was too much alive to need driving in that respect. But he did +show nervous timidity at feeding with the other horses, and so Miguel cheerfully +went to the urging with fork and tongue. But only <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> the one time. Soon the colt took to +burying his nose in the box along with the others, and would wriggle his tail +with a vigor that seemed to tell of his gratitude at being accepted as part of +the great establishment and its devices. And then another thing. With this +change in his method of feeding, he soon came to reveal steadily increasing +courage and independence. Oftentimes he would be the first to reach the box, +and, what was more to the point, would hold his position against the other +horses–hold it against rough shouldering from the family horse, savage +nipping from the saddler, even vigorous cursing and flaying from the swarthy +hostler.</p> + +<p>With the approach of winter he revealed his courage and temerity further. Of +his own volition one night he abruptly changed his sleeping-quarters. Since the +memorable occasion when the mare had kicked him out of her stall he had sought +out a stall by himself with the coming of night, and there spent the hours in +fear-broken sleep. But this night, and every night thereafter, saw him boldly +approaching the mare and crowding in beside her in her stall, where, in the +contact with her warm body and in her silent presence, he found much that was +soothing and comfortable. Which, too, marked the beginning of a new friendship, +one that steadily ripened with the passing winter and, by the time spring again +descended into the valley, was an attachment close almost as that between mother +and offspring. When in his playful moments, rare indeed now <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> for one of his age, he would +inadvertently plunge into her, or stumble over a water-pail, she would nicker +grave disapproval, or else chide him more generously by licking his neck and +withers a long time in genuine affection.</p> + +<p>Thus the colt changed in both spirit and physique. And the more he changed, +and the larger he grew, the greater source of trouble he became to the Mexican. +Before, he had feared the man. Now he felt only a kind of hatred, and this lent +courage to make of himself a frequent source of annoyance.</p> + +<p>With the return of warm weather he resumed his old place in his favorite +corner. He did this through both habit and a desire to warm himself in the +sun’s rays. And it was all innocent enough–this thing. Yet, innocent +though it was, more than once, in passing, the Mexican struck him with whatever +happened to be in his hands. At such times, whimpering with pain, he would dart +to an opposite corner, there to stand in trembling fear, until, his courage +returning, and his hatred for the man upholding him, he would return and +defiantly resume his day-dreaming in the corner. This happened for perhaps a +dozen times before he openly rebelled. And when he did rebel–when the +Mexican struck him sharply across the nose–he whipped around his head like +lightning and, still only half awake, sank his teeth savagely into the +man’s shoulder. Followed a string of oaths and sudden appearance of a +club, which might have proved serious but for the Judge’s timely <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> call for the horse and +phaeton. Whereupon the Mexican slunk off into the stable. But as he went Pat saw +the gleam in his black eyes, and knew that some day punishment most dire and +cruel would descend upon him.</p> + +<p>He passed through his second summer, that period of trial and sickness for +many infants, in perfect health. In perfect health also he passed through the +autumn and on into his second winter. Growing ever stronger with the passing +seasons, he came to reveal still further his wonderful vitality, and to reveal +it in many ways. Often he would take the initiative against the Mexican, kicking +at him without due cause, refusing always to get out of his way, once nipping +him sharply as he hurried past under pressing orders from the house. Also, +having grown to a size equal to the brown saddler, he began to reveal his +antipathy for this animal. Not only would he shoulder him away from the +feed-box, but he would kick and snap at him, and once he tipped over the +water-pail for no other reason, seemingly, than to deprive the saddler of water. +The result of all this was that, with the passing seasons, both the Mexican and +the saddler showed increasing respect for him, and the former went to every +precaution to avoid a serious encounter.</p> + +<p>But it was bound to come in spite of all his efforts to avoid it. Fighting +spring flies in the stable one morning, Pat was aroused by a familiar sound in +the corral. It was the sound which usually accompanied feeding, and, whirling, +he plunged <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> eagerly +toward the door. As he did so the Mexican, about to enter the stable, appeared +on the threshold. Pat saw him too late. He crashed headlong into the Mexican and +sent him reeling out into the inclosure. From that moment it was to the +death.</p> + +<p>The Mexican painfully gained his feet and, swearing a mighty vengeance, +caught up a heavy shovel. Pat saw what was coming and, dashing out into the +corral, sought protection behind the feed-box. But the infuriated man hunted him +out, dealing upon his quivering back blow after blow, until, stung beyond all +caution, Pat sprang for the object of his suffering. But the man leaped aside, +delivering as he did so another vicious blow, this time across Pat’s +nose–most tender of places. Dazed, trembling, raging with the spirit of +battle, he surveyed the man a moment, and then, with an unnatural outcry, half +nicker, half roar, he hurtled himself upon his enemy, striking him down. But he +did not stop here. When the man attempted to rise he struck him down again, and +a third time. Then, seeing the man lying motionless, he uttered another outcry, +different from the other, a whimpering, baby outcry, and, whirling away from the +scene, hurried across the corral and into the stable, where he sought out the +family horse and, still whimpering babyishly, stood very close beside her, +seeking her sympathy and encouragement.</p> + +<p>This closed the feud for all time. Miguel was not seriously hurt. But he had +learned something, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +even as Pat had learned something, and thereafter there existed tacit +understanding between them.</p> + +<p>The seasons passed, and the third year came, and with it the beginning of the +end of Pat’s loneliness. One morning late in June he was aroused by the +voice of the Mexican, who, with brushes and currycomb in hand, had come to clean +him. Pat was in need of just this cleaning. Though wallowing but little, leaving +that form of exercise to the older horses, he nevertheless was gritty with sand +from swirling spring winds. So he stood very still under the hostler’s +vigorous attention. But Miguel’s ambition did not stop here. He turned to +the other horses and curried and brushed them also, working till the +perspiration streamed from him. But this was not the end. He set to work in the +stable, and scraped and cleaned to the last corner, and rubbed and scoured to +the smallest harness buckle. It was all very unusual, and Pat, standing +attentive throughout it all, revealed marked interest and something of surprise. +Soon he was to know the reason.</p> + +<p>Along toward noon, as he was feeding at the box, he saw a very dignified +young woman leave the house, cross the <i>patio</i> in his direction, and come +to a stop immediately outside the fence. Though the feed-box always held his +interest above all other things, and though it was strongly attracting him now, +he nevertheless could not resist the attention with which this young woman +regarded him. He returned her gaze steadily, wondering <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> who she was and what she meant to do. He +soon found out, for presently she set out along the fence and came to a stop +directly in front of him. She did more. She held out a hand and sounded a single +word softly.</p> + +<p>“Pat!” she called.</p> + +<p>And now something took place inside the colt. With the word, far back in his +brain, in the remotest of cells, there came an effort for freedom. It was a grim +struggle, no doubt, for the thing must fight its way against almost all other +thoughts and scenes and persons in his memory. But at length this vague memory +gained momentum and dominance. And now he understood. The young woman outside +the fence was his little mistress of early days! Lifting his head, he gave off a +shrill and protracted nicker of greeting.</p> + +<p>Helen dropped her hand. “Bless you!” she cried, and sped along +the fence, opened the gate, and ran inside. “You do know me, don’t +you?” she burst out, and, hurrying to his side, hugged him convulsively. +“And I’m so glad, Pat!” she went on. “It–it has +been a long three years!” She stepped back and looked him over admiringly. +“And you have grown so! Dear, oh, dear! Three years!” Again she +stepped close and hugged him. “I am so proud of you, Pat!”</p> + +<p>All this love-talk, this caressing and hugging, was as the lifting of a veil +to Pat. Within him all that had lain dormant for three years–affection, +desires, life itself–now pressed eagerly to the surface. And though his +mistress did not look <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_55'></a>55</span> the same to him–though he found himself gazing +down now instead of up to engage her eyes–yet, as if she had been gone but +a day, he suddenly nuzzled her hand for loaf sugar and quartered apples. Then as +suddenly he regretted this. For she had left him–was running across the +corral. Frantically he rushed after her and, with a shrill cry of protest, saw +her enter the house. But soon she appeared again, and when close, and he saw the +familiar sweets in her hand, he nickered again, this time in sheer delight. And +if he had doubted his good fortune before, now, with his mouth dripping luscious +juices, he knew positively that he had come into his own again.</p> + +<p>Sometime during the feast Helen noticed a scar across his nose. “Why, +Pat!” she exclaimed. “How ever did you get that?”</p> + +<p>But Pat did not say. Indeed, it is doubtful whether, in this happiest of +moments, he would have descended to such commonplaces. But it was no commonplace +to Helen, and she promptly sought out the Mexican. Yet Miguel declared that he +knew nothing of the scar. He had been very watchful of the colt, he lied, +cheerfully, and the scar was as much a mystery to him as it was to her. +Whereupon Helen decided that Pat had brought it about through some prank, and, +after returning to him and indulging in further caresses and love-talk, +reluctantly took leave of him, returning to the house, there to begin unpacking +her numerous trunks.</p> + +<p>Thus their friendship was renewed. Pat was <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_56'></a>56</span> older by three years, as the girl was older by three +years. But each was much older than that in point of development. Where before +had been baby affection in him and girl affection in her, now was a thing of +greater worth and more lasting quality–affection of a grown horse and a +grown woman. In the days which followed this was brought out in many ways. The +colt did not once frisk and play about the inclosure, a trait she remembered +best; yet she did not wish it. She preferred him as he was, finding in his +mature conduct something that enhanced his beauty; and rare beauty it was, as +she frequently noted in running proud eyes over his lines, and in noting it came +more and more to feel not alone great pride for him, but a sure love as +well–not the love woman gives to man, of course, but the love she can +give, and does give, without stint, to all dumb animals.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span><a id='link_6'></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE FIRST GREAT LESSON</span></h2> + +<p>Helen spent much time in the society of the horse. Aside from attending to +his wants, such as food and water, she more than once took comb and brush in +hand and gave him a thorough cleaning. This invariably brought a grin to the +ugly features of Miguel, and when the Judge was present, which was not often, a +smile of delight mixed with derision to his ruddy features. But never would +Helen permit them to discourage her. She would brush and curry Pat till his coat +shone like new-mined coal, and then, after surveying the satiny sheen +critically, she would comb out his long tail, sometimes braid his glossy mane, +and, after that, scour his hoofs till they were as clean and fresh as the rest +of him. In her pride for him she liked to do these things, and often regretted +that he did not require her attention more than he did.</p> + +<p>One day, with characteristic suddenness, she decided to have him broken to +saddle. Therefore, next morning, three horse-breakers–one professional and +two assistants–armed with ropes and saddles, appeared in the corral. Pat +was <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> sunning himself +in his corner, and at their entrance only cocked his ears and blinked his eyes +lazily. Outside the inclosure Helen, together with a scattering of spectators, +attracted by the word of this treat in town, stood quietly expectant. One of the +assistants, a raw-boned individual with hairy wrists, drove Pat out of his +corner, while the professional, a large man of quiet demeanor, turned to Miguel, +who was standing in the stable door, and put a question to him. Miguel, out of +his own experience, warned them against the horse. Whereupon the large man +neatly roped Pat, settling the noose skilfully around the horse’s +neck.</p> + +<p>Instantly Pat was a quivering bundle of nerves. Bracing his legs, he drew +back on the rope. But the man held to it grimly. The man did more. He suddenly +raced across the inclosure, gave the rope a deft twist, and followed the twist +with a vigorous jerk. Pat plunged heavily to the ground.</p> + +<p>He lay dazed, breathing laboriously, till the rope slackened. Then he started +to rise. But he only gained his fore legs. The second assistant, a slender +youth, resisted his efforts, forcing Pat’s head back by sitting upon it. +Pat twisted and writhed to throw him off. But the man stayed with him, and +finally had him prone to earth again. Whereupon Pat experienced the chagrin of +his first defeat. Yet he could see. Upon the retina of each eye danced a +picture. It was that of his mistress, surrounded by open-mouthed spectators, +outside the fence, gazing down upon <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_59'></a>59</span> him with seeming approval. This once, but only this +once, he felt dislike for her.</p> + +<p>One of the men approached with a halter. Pat had seen these things in the +stable, and he instinctively knew what they were for. But he would not accept +this one. Embittered by his fall, chafing under the weight upon his head, he +struggled so successfully that he finally dislodged the man. Then he sprang to +his feet again, and, trembling in every part, glared savagely at his +tormentors.</p> + +<p>“Better give him a twist,” quietly suggested the +professional.</p> + +<p>Pat heard the remark. But he did not understand, and so remained quiet. +Presently he felt a light hand creeping up along his neck, pausing, patting him, +creeping along farther, pausing and patting him again. It was not unpleasant, +and under the soothing influence he came to believe that his tormentors had +experienced a change of attitude. But he was mistaken. Suddenly his ear was +gripped as in a vise. Also, it was twisted sharply, once, twice, and then held +in a relentless grip. He stood still as death. Up and down his spine, from his +ear to his tail, coursed shrieking pain, hacking him like the agony of a +thousand twisting knives. Under the terror of it he stopped +breathing–stopped till he must breathe or swoon. Then he did take air, in +short, faint gasps, but each gasp at terrible cost. And standing thus, fearing +to move, he accepted the halter. He could do naught else.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span>The raw-boned +assistant turned to Helen apologetically. “Lively hoss, Miss +Richards,” he declared. “Reckon we’re in for a little +exercise.” And he grinned.</p> + +<p>Anxiously Helen mounted the fence, standing upon a lower board. “You +won’t hurt him, I hope–that is, needlessly! I don’t want that, +you know!” And she gazed at Pat with pitiful eyes.</p> + +<p>The other laughed. “No; ’tain’t that,” he hastened to +reassure her. “He’s lively–that’s all.”</p> + +<p>The professional looked Pat over speculatively, and again made a suggestion. +“Better blindfold him, Larry,” he said.</p> + +<p>Pat heard this as he had heard the other. And because he was coming to know +this man’s voice, and to interpret it correctly, despite the agony it cost +him he went on his guard, spreading and bracing his legs as against shock. He +did not receive shock, however. Merely a piece of soft flannel was tucked gently +under his halter and drawn carefully over his eyes. Against the soft pressure of +it he closed his eyes. As he did so the hand released his ear. Conscious of +sweet relief from the dread pain now, he opened his eyes again, only to discover +that he could not see!</p> + +<p>Here was new distress! He did not understand it. He knew that his eyes were +open; knew that it was the time of sunshine; knew with grim certainty that he +was awake. Yet he could not see! He flung up his head; tossed it across and +back; flung it down again. Yet the unnatural darkness! <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> He took to pawing the ground. He began to +recall his surroundings before this strange darkness had descended upon +him–the girl outside the fence, the spectators upon the fence, the +tormentors inside the fence, the glorious sunlight, the distant shimmering +mountains, the stable and outhouses and cottage. But all were gone from him now. +Everything was black with the blackness of night! Again he tossed his +head–and again and again. But still the darkness! He was afraid.</p> + +<p>Here came a change. Across his vision leaped sudden flashing lights, myriads +of them, dancing strangely before him. Gripped in new fear, he watched them +closely, saw them hurry, pause, hurry again, all in dazzling array. They kept it +up. Breathlessly he saw them dart to and fro, speed near, whirl and twist, until +out of sheer distress he closed his eyes for relief. But he got no relief. He +saw the lights as before, saw them dancing and pirouetting before his eyes, and +suddenly whisk away, as though satiated with their fiendishness. But they left +him limp and faint and with a throbbing pain in his head. Again he stamped the +earth and shook his head. But the darkness clung. He could not throw off the +thing before his eyes. Yet he persisted. He tossed his head until dizziness +seized him. Then he stopped all effort and relaxed. His head began to droop; he +let it droop, low and lower, until he smelled the earth. This aroused him. His +spirit of fight rose again. He jerked up his head, sounded a defiant outcry, +stiffened his legs for action. This <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_62'></a>62</span> for a moment only, for he did not act–somehow +felt it was not yet time. But he gave way to a grim restlessness. He took to +rocking like a chained elephant–from right hind to left fore, from left +hind to right fore legs–changing, always changing.</p> + +<p>“Well, old son,” came a voice on his chaotic thoughts, +“we’ve just found a bridle that’ll suit. But it took us a mean +long time to do it, didn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Pat stopped swaying. He stopped suddenly, as one checked by a mighty force. +And so he was. For he knew now that the time had come. Here was his tormentor! +Here was one of them within reach! The time had come to strike, to strike this +man, to crush him to earth, to kill the cause of his suffering–</p> + +<p>“Here, hoss,” went on the voice, soothingly, the while Pat +smelled a something of the stable underneath his nose. “Go to it! +It’s right harmless–now, ain’t it?” Which it seemed to +be from the smell.</p> + +<p>But Pat struck–reared with the speed of lightning and struck.</p> + +<p>The blow was unexpected. It sent the man spinning, whirling across the +inclosure. He dropped into a corner like a log.</p> + +<p>There was a tense moment. Spectators sat dazed; horsemen stood rigid; the +girl screamed. Then the large man ran to the prostrate form. He bent over, gazed +briefly, straightened up with a reassuring smile. Presently the assistant <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> arose and, rubbing his +shoulder ruefully, caught up the fallen bridle. Soon the work of breaking was +resumed as though nothing had happened.</p> + +<p>Pat was standing motionless. But he was keenly alert. He heard the man draw +near, felt the hand creeping along his neck, but he had learned his lesson well. +He reared and struck again–this time only empty air. Yet, as he returned +to earth, almost before he touched ground, the hand was around his ear, another +was around his other ear, he was feeling the dread twist again, twofold. Every +twitch of muscle, every least gasp for air, sent excruciating pain throughout +the ends of him. Fearing to move, yet clamoring for breath, he slowly opened his +mouth.</p> + +<p>Which was what they wanted, evidently. He felt a cold something suddenly +thrust between his teeth. It was hard as well as cold. He tasted it, rolled it +over his tongue, and found it not painful. Then came something else. His head +was being hurriedly fitted with a leathery contrivance. But neither was this +painful, save only as it touched his twisted ears, and he therefore experienced +no increasing alarm. Then, with this adjusted, he was introduced to something +else–a something held close under his nose. He smelled this carefully; +noted that it reeked with odors of the stable; smelled it again. Next he knew it +was being placed gently upon his back. It was soft, and quite hairy, and though +it irritated him a little, he accepted it without loss of composure. But when it +was followed, as it was directly, by a <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_64'></a>64</span> heavier something, a something fitting his back snug +and hard, he instantly determined to rebel, despite his twisted ears. But he +could not withstand the increased pain, and he permitted the thing to be made +secure with straps around his body. And now came a heavier something, a free and +loose weight, something with spring and give to it, and which had flung up from +the ground. And suddenly, flaying his pained senses, understanding flashed upon +him. This was a man. There was a tormentor upon his back, gripping the thing in +his mouth, holding him solidly to the ground. He–</p> + +<p>“Go!”</p> + +<p>It was a word of command. With the word Pat felt his ears released. As he +thrilled with relief the cloth was jerked off his eyes. For a time the fierce +daylight blinded him. Then the pupils of his eyes contracted and all objects +stood out clearly again–the men in the corral, the spectators on the +fence, his mistress outside the fence. Also he saw the sunlit stable, and Miguel +in the doorway, and the house in the trees. All had come back to him, and he +stood gazing about him blinkingly, trying to understand, conscious of straps +binding his body and restraining his breathing.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly he understood–remembered–remembered that he had +been abused, had been tortured as never before. And he awoke to the fact that he +was still being tortured. There was this thing in his mouth. There was this +contraption on his head. There was that thing on his <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> back, and the weight upon the thing. +Also, there was that binding of his belly, and the irritation due to the prickly +something pressing his back and sides. All these facts stung him, and under the +whip of them he awoke to a mighty urging within. It was his fighting spirit +rekindling–the thing that was his birthright, the thing come down to him +from his ancestors, the thing that told him to rebel against the unnatural. And +heeding this, voice, heeding it because he knew no other, he decided to give +decisive battle.</p> + +<p>In a frenzy of effort he suddenly reared. He pirouetted on hind legs; pawed +the air with fore legs; lost his balance. Failing to recover himself, he went +over backward. He struck the earth resoundingly, but he realized that the weight +was gone, and he felt a faint glow of victory!</p> + +<p>“Wow!” yelled a spectator, excitedly.</p> + +<p>Pat heard this and hastily regained his feet. And because he was uncertain of +his next move he remained motionless. This was a mistake, as he soon discovered. +For he saw two men leap, grasp both his ears; felt the dread twist again. So he +remained still, and he felt the man mount again. Then came rumbling in upon his +tortured soul again the insistent voice telling him to rebel further, and to +keep on rebelling until through sheer brute strength he had mastered these +unnatural things. With the grip on his ears released he once more gave heed to +this clamoring within.</p> + +<p>He leaped straight up into the air. Returning to earth with nerve-shattering +shock, he whirled <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> +suddenly, pitched and bucked, tossed and twisted, all in mad effort. But the +weight clung fast. He whirled again, and again leaped, leaped clear of the +ground, returning to it this time on stiffened legs. But he could not shake off +the weight. He flung across the corral, twisting, writhing, bucking; flung back +again–heart thumping, lungs shrieking for air, muscles wrenching and +straining; and again across, responding, and continuing to respond, to the +ringing voice within, like the king of kings that he was. But he could not +dislodge the weight.</p> + +<p>“Great!” yelled an excited spectator.</p> + +<p>“See that hoss sunfishin’!” burst out another.</p> + +<p>“An’ corkscrewin’!” added a third.</p> + +<p>“Better ’n a outlaw!” amplified a fourth.</p> + +<p>And now the first again: “Stay with him, Alex! I got two +dollars–Oh, hell!”–this disgustedly. “Come out o’ +that corner!” Then suddenly he turned, face red as fire, and apologized to +Helen. “I beg your pardon, Miss Richards,” he offered, meekly. But +he turned back to the spectacle and promptly forgot all else in his returning +excitement. “Shoot it to him, Alex!” he yelled. “Shoot it; +shoot it! He’s a helldinger, that hoss!” Frenziedly he then yawped, +cowboy fashion: “Whe-e-e-o-o-o-yip-yip! Whe-e-e-o-o-o-yip-yip!”</p> + +<p>Yet Helen–poor Helen!–had not heard. Holding her breath in tense +fear, eyes upon her pride fighting his fight of pride, half hopeful that <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> he would win, yet fearful +of that very thing, she watched the strife of man skill against brute strength, +keyed up almost to snapping-point.</p> + +<p>But her horse did not win. Neither did he lose. She saw him take up, one +after another, every trick known to those familiar with horses, and she marveled +greatly at his unexpected knowledge of things vicious. Along one side of the +inclosure, across the side adjacent to it, back along the side opposite to the +second, then forward along the first again–thus round the corral–he +writhed and twisted in mighty effort, bucking and pitching and whirling and +flinging, the while the sun rose higher in the morning sky. Spectators clambered +down from the fence, stood awhile to relieve cramped muscles, clambered on the +fence again; but the horse fought on; coat necked with white slaver, glistening +with streaming sweat in the sunlight, eyes wild, mouth grim, ears back, he +fought on and on till it seemed that he must stop through sheer exhaustion. But +still he fought, valiantly, holding to the battle until, with a raging, +side-pitching twist, one never before seen, he lost his footing, plunged to the +ground, tore up twenty feet of earth, crashed headlong into the fence, ripped +out three boards clean as though struck by lightning–lay motionless in a +crumpled heap.</p> + +<p>The man was thrown. He arose hastily. As he wiped away his perspiration and +grime he saw blood on his handkerchief. He was bruised and <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> bleeding, and wrenched inwardly, yet when +Pat, returning to consciousness, hastily gained his feet, the man leaped for the +horse, sounding a muffled curse. But he did not mount. And for good reason. For +Pat was reeling like a drunken man–head drooping, fore parts swaying, eyes +slowly closing. At the sight one of the spectators made a plea in Pat’s +behalf.</p> + +<p>“Whyn’t you take him outside?” he demanded. “Into the +open. This ain’t no place to bust a horse like him! That horse needs air! +Get him out into about three-quarters of these United States! Git ginerous! Git +ginerous! I hate a stingy man!”</p> + +<p>Whereupon Helen at last found voice. “Wait!” she cried, evenly, +and, turning, sped along the fence to the gate. Inside the corral she hurried to +the horse and flung her arms around his neck. “Pat dear,” she began, +tenderly, “I am so sorry! But it’s ’most over with now, if +you’ll only accept it! Can’t you see, Pat? It is so very necessary +to both of us! For then I myself can ride you! Please, Pat–please, for my +sake!” Whereupon Pat, as if all else were forgotten–all the torture, +all the struggle and shock–nickered softly and nuzzled her hands for sugar +and apples. Suppressing a smile, and accepting this as a good omen, she stroked +him a few times more and then stepped back. “Later, dear!” she +promised and left him, suddenly mindful of spectators. But, though she felt the +blood rush into her cheeks, she did not leave the inclosure. <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> The horse-breaker stepped +resolutely to Pat and, laying firm hands upon the bridle, waited a moment, eying +Pat narrowly, then flung up into the saddle. Pat’s sides heaved, his knees +trembled, but he did not resist. Eyes trained upon his mistress, as if he would +hold her to her promise, he set out peacefully, and of his own volition, across +the inclosure. Further, even though he could not see his mistress now, he turned +in response to the rein and started back across the inclosure. And he kept this +up, holding to perfect calm, breaking into a trot when urged to it, falling back +into a walk in response to the bridle, round and round and round until, with a +grunt of satisfaction, the man dismounted close beside the girl and handed her +the reins.</p> + +<p>“Rides easy as a single-footer, Miss Richards,” he declared. +“Where can I wash up?”</p> + +<p>Which ended Pat’s first great lesson at the hands of man. But though +this lesson had its values, since he was destined to serve mankind, yet he had +learned another thing that held more value to him as an animal than all the +teachings within the grasp of men–he had learned the inevitable workings +of cause and effect. His nose was scraped and his knees were scraped, and all +these places burned intensely. And, intelligent horse that he was, he knew why +he suffered these burns–knew that he had brought them about through his +own sheer wilfulness. True, he was still girt with bands and straps, and in a +way they were uncomfortable. But they did not pain him <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> as the wounds pained him. Not that he +reasoned all this out. He was but a dumb animal, and pure reasoning was +blissfully apart from him. But he did know the difference between what had been +desired of him and what he himself had brought on through sheer wilfulness. Thus +he awakened, having learned this lesson with his headlong plunge into the fence, +and having added to the lesson of the futility of rebellion the very clear +desires of his mistress. Other and less intelligent horses would have continued +to respond to the ancestral voice within till death. But Pat was more than such +a horse.</p> + +<p>With the men gone, he revealed his intelligence further. Helen commissioned +Miguel to fit him with her saddle and bridle, then hurried herself off to the +house. Returning, clad in riding-habit and with hands full of sugar and +quartered apples, she fed these delectables to him till his mouth dripped +delightful juices. Then, while yet he munched the sweets, she mounted +fearlessly. Sitting perfectly still for a time to accustom him to her weight, +she then gave him the rein and word. Without hesitation he responded, stepping +out across the inclosure, acknowledging her guiding rein in the corner, +returning to the starting-place and, with the word, coming to a stop. It was all +very beautiful, rightly understood, and, thrilled with her success, Helen sat +still again, sat for a long time, gazing soberly down upon him. Then she bent +forward.</p> + +<p>“Pat,” she began, her voice breaking a little <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> with emotion suddenly +overwhelming her, “this begins our real friendship and understanding. Let +us try to make it equal”–she straightened up, narrow eyes off toward +the mountains–“equal to the best that lies within us +both.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span><a id='link_7'></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><span class='h2fs'>A STRANGER</span></h2> + +<p>As the weeks passed, each day bringing its period of companionship, this +friendship and understanding between them became perfect in its simplicity. Pat +learned to know her wishes almost without the reins, and he showed that he loved +to carry her. Also, with these daily canters on the mesa he developed in bodily +strength, and it was not long before he was in the pink of condition. Yet it was +a perfection that was only natural for him. The quality of his blood was shown +in his nostrils, which were wide and continuously atremble; in his eyes, which +were bright and keenly alert; and in his ears, which were fine and vibrant. +Stepping through town each morning under Helen’s restraining hand, he +would pick up his hoofs with a cleanliness and place them down with a grace that +always commanded the attention of admiring eyes. But he seemed unconscious of +his quality.</p> + +<p>Dressed in her usual dark riding-habit, Helen entered the corral one morning +for her daily canter across the mesa. Already Pat was bridled and saddled. But +as she stepped alongside to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_73'></a>73</span> mount, Miguel appeared in the stable door with a +brief tale of trouble and a warning. It seemed that he had experienced +difficulty in preparing the horse, and between puffs at a cigarette he strongly +advised Helen to be careful.</p> + +<p>“He’s a-very fresh thees mornin’,” he concluded, with +an ominous shake of his head.</p> + +<p>Helen looked Pat over. He appeared in anything but a cantankerous mood. He +was standing quietly, eyes blinking sleepily, ears wriggling lazily, in an +attitude of superior indifference toward all the world. So, untroubled by the +hostler’s tale, she slipped her foot into the stirrup. Instantly the horse +nickered queerly and stepped away.</p> + +<p>“Steady, Pat!” she gently admonished, and again attempted to +mount. But, as before, he stepped away, this time more abruptly. He began to +circle around her, prancing nervously, pausing to paw the ground, prancing again +nervously. She held firm grip on his bridle, however, and sharply rebuked him. +“Pat,” she exclaimed, “this is a new trait!” And then, +before he could resist again, she caught hold of the saddle-horn, leaped up, +hardly touching the stirrup, and gathered the reins quickly to meet further +rebellion.</p> + +<p>But with her in the saddle Pat was quite another horse. He snapped his ears +at attention, wheeled to the gate, and cantered briskly out of the corral.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful morning. The air nipped with a tang of frost, and she rode +swiftly through town and up the hill to the mesa in keen exhilaration. <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> Once on the mesa, Pat +dashed off ecstatically in the direction of the mountains. The pace was +thrilling. The rush of the crisp wind, together with the joy of swift motion, +sent tingling blood into Helen’s cheeks, while the horse, racing along at +top speed, flung out his hoofs with a vigor that told of the riot of blood +within him. Thus they continued, until in the shadow of the mountains–just +now draped in their most delicate coloring, the pink that accompanies sunbeams +streaming through fading haze–she pulled Pat down and gave herself over to +the beauty of the scene. The horse, also appreciative, came to a ready stop and +turned his eyes out over the desert in slow-blinking earnestness.</p> + +<p>“Pat!” suddenly cried Helen. She pulled his head gently around in +the direction of the mountain trail. “Look off there!”</p> + +<p>Above the distant trail hung a thin cloud of dust, and under the cloud of +dust, and rolling heavily toward town, creaked a lumber rigging, piled high with +wood and drawn by a pair of plodding horses–plodding despite the bite and +snarl of a whip swung with merciless regularity. The whip was in the hands of a +brawny Mexican, who, seated confidently on the high load, appeared utterly +indifferent to the trembling endeavors of his scrawny team. He was inhaling the +smoke of a cigarette, and with every puff mechanically flaying the horses. The +spectacle aroused deep sympathy in the girl.</p> + +<p>“Only consider, Pat!” she exclaimed, after a <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> while. “Those poor, miserable +horses–half-starved, cruelly beaten, yet of God’s own making!” +She was silent. “Suppose you had been born to that service, Pat–born +to that oppression! You are one of the fortunate!” And she bent forward +and stroked him. “One of the fortunate!” she repeated, +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>Indeed Pat was just that. But not in the way Helen meant. For such was the +whim of Fate, and such is the limit of human understanding, she did not know, +and never would know, save by the grace of that Fate, that Pat had been born in +just that service, born to just that oppression; that only by the kindness of +Fate he had been released from that service, that oppression, that he had been +guided out of that environment and cast into a more kindly, bigger, and truer +environment–her own!</p> + +<p>But Pat only blinked stolid indifference at the spectacle. He appeared to +care nothing for the misery of other horses, nor to appreciate her tenderness +when directed elsewhere than toward himself. After a time, as if to reveal this, +he set out of his own volition toward a particularly inviting bit of flower, +dainty yellow in the brown of the desert. Plucking this morsel, he fell to +munching it in contentment, and continued to munch it till the last vestige +disappeared. Then, again of his own volition, he broke into a canter. Helen +smiled and pulled him down.</p> + +<p>“You’re a strange horse, Pat,” she declared, and fell to +stroking him again. “And not the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_76'></a>76</span> least strange thing about you is your history. +Sometimes I wonder whether you are actually blooded. Certainly you look it, and +at times assuredly you act it; yet if you are so valuable, why didn’t +somebody claim you that time? It is all very mysterious.” And she relapsed +into silence, gazing at him thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>Aroused by sudden faint gusts of wind, she glanced around and overhead. She +saw unmistakable signs of an approaching storm, and swung Pat about toward home. +As the horse broke into a canter the gusts became more fitful and sharper, while +the sun, growing dim and hazy, cast ever-increasing shadow before her. +Presently, as far as the eye could reach, she saw the landscape spring into +active life. Dust-devils whirled about in quick eddies, stray sheets of paper +leaped up, tumbleweed began steady forward movement, rabbit-like, scurrying +before the winds, the advance occupied by largest growths, the rear brought up +with smallest clumps, the order determined by the area each presented to the +winds. It was all very impressive, but, knowing the uncertain character of the +elements, and uncertain whether this foretold violent sand-storm or milder +wind-storm, she was gripped with apprehension. She urged Pat to his utmost.</p> + +<p>And Pat responded, though he really needed but little urging. With each +sudden gust he became increasingly afraid. Holding himself more and more alert +to every least movement about him, he was steadily becoming keyed up to a +dangerous <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> pitch. +Rollicking tumbleweed did not worry him any more than did the swirling +dust-devils. These were things of the desert, each the complexion of the desert. +But not so with scraps of paper. Their whiteness offered a startling contrast to +the others, and, whisking about frantically, they increased his fears. Then +suddenly a paper struck him, whipped madly across his eyes. It was unexpected, +and for an instant blinded him. Gripping the bit in his teeth, he bolted.</p> + +<p>His sudden plunge almost unseated Helen. But, recovering, she braced herself +grimly in the stirrups and pulled mightily on the reins. But she could not hold +him. He increased his speed, if anything, and hurtled across the +desert–head level, ears flat, legs far-reaching. She braced herself again, +flinging back head and shoulders, thrusting her feet far forward, and continued +to pull. But it counted for nothing. Yet she did not weaken, and under her +vigorous striving, coupled with the jolting of the horse, her +tam-o’-shanter flew off, and her hair loosened and fell, streaming out +whippingly behind. And then suddenly, struck with terror herself, she cried out +in terror.</p> + +<p>“Pat!” she burst out. “Pat! Pat!”</p> + +<p>But the horse seemed not to hear. Thundering madly forward, he appeared blind +as well as fear-stricken, and Helen, suddenly seeing a barb-wire fence ahead, +felt herself go faint, for she had never taken a fence, and she knew that Pat +never had. She must get control of herself again. And this <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> she did. Stiffening in the stirrups, she +gripped a single rein in both hands and pulled with all her strength. But she +could not swerve the horse. On he plunged for the obstruction, evidently not +seeing it. She screamed again.</p> + +<p>“Pat! Pat! Pat!”</p> + +<p>But, as before, the horse did not heed. He dashed to the fence. He hesitated, +but only for an instant. Throwing up his head, he rose and took the fence +cleanly. Once on the other side, he resumed his frantic racing–pounding +along in the mountain trail, his course clearly defined, hurtling madly straight +toward town. With the fence safely cleared, and the way ahead free of vehicles, +Helen regained much of her composure. Settling calmly to the rhythmic movement, +she permitted the horse free rein. Once she reached back to gather up her hair, +but the motion of the horse forbade this. So she fell to watching his splendid +energy, finding herself quite calm and collected again, vaguely wondering how it +would end. For the horse seemed tireless.</p> + +<p>Wise in his knowledge of first principles, and remembering the terrible slap +across his eyes, Pat continued to rush forward. As he ran he kept eyes alert +about him, fearing another blow. He knew that the thing was white, and he +watched for a white something. Instead of a white something, however, there +presently loomed up beside him a brown something, browner even than the desert, +a something racing along beside him, moving with a speed equal to his +own–even greater <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_79'></a>79</span> than his own! But he did not pause to analyze this. +Instead, he forced himself to greater efforts, pounding the hardened trail with +an energy that hurt his ankles, stretching neck and legs to their utmost limit +of fiber–on and on in increased frenzy. But he could not best this object +beside him. Yet that did not discourage him. He continued grimly forward, stung +to desperation now by a double purpose, which was to outrun this thing on his +right as well as get away from the other possible pursuing object. Yet the brown +thing gained upon him–drew steadily nearer, steadily closer–he saw a +hand shoot out. He felt a strong pull on his bridle, a tearing twist on the bit +in his mouth, and found himself thrown out of his stride. But not even with this +would he accept defeat. He reared in a nervous effort to shake off the hand. +Finding this futile, he dropped back again, and at last came to a trembling, +panting, nerve-racked pause.</p> + +<p>The thing was a horseman. He hurriedly dismounted, still retaining hold on +Pat’s bridle, and smiled up at Helen.</p> + +<p>“I–I tried to overtake you–to overtake you before you +reached the fence,” he began to explain, pausing between words for breath. +“This horse of yours can–can claim–claim anything on +record–for speed.” And he looked Pat over admiringly.</p> + +<p>Helen did not speak at once. In the moment needed to regain her +self-possession she could only regard him with mute gratitude. She saw that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> he was young and +well-built, though lean of features, but with frank, healthy eyes. He was not at +all bad-looking. Also she observed that he was neatly garbed in puttees and +knickerbockers, and she quickly appraised him as the usual type of Easterner +come into the valley to spend the winter. Then she suddenly remembered her hair. +Woman-like, she hastily gathered it up into a knot at the back of her head +before she answered this young man smiling up at her.</p> + +<p>“Pat never ran like that before,” she explained, a bit nervously. +“I was beginning to wonder what would happen at the railroad crossing. You +checked him just in time. I–I really owe–”</p> + +<p>“Sure he won’t charge again?” interrupted the young man, +evidently wishing to avoid any expression of gratitude on her part.</p> + +<p>“I–I am quite certain,” she replied, and then, after +thanking him, slowly gathered up the reins. But she did not ride on, for the +reason that the other, now absorbed in a cool survey of Pat’s outlines, +retained his hold on the bridle. Yet neither the survey nor the grip on the +bridle displeased her.</p> + +<p>“A splendid horse,” he declared, after a moment. “A +beautiful animal!” Then, evidently suddenly mindful that he was detaining +her, he stepped back.</p> + +<p>Helen again prepared to ride on.</p> + +<p>“Pat is a beautiful horse,” she agreed, still a little nervous. +“And like all beauty,” she added, “he develops strange moods +at times.” Then, her <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_81'></a>81</span> sense of deep gratitude moving her, she asked, +“Were you going toward town?”</p> + +<p>For reply he swung into the saddle. He wheeled close, and they set out. He +appeared a little ill at ease, and Helen took the initiative.</p> + +<p>“From the East, I take it?” she inquired. “There are not a +few Easterners down here. Some have taken up permanent residence.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he replied, “I’m from the East–New +York.”</p> + +<p>She liked his voice.</p> + +<p>“We are here for the winter–mother and myself. Mother isn’t +strong, and your delightful climate ought to improve her. I myself came +along”–he turned twinkling eyes toward her–“as guide and +comforter and–I fear–all-round nuisance.” He was silent. +“I like this country,” he added, after a moment.</p> + +<p>Helen liked him for liking her country, for she had true Western pride for +her birthplace. So she said the natural thing, though without display of pride. +“Everybody likes it down here.”</p> + +<p>He looked at her hesitatingly. “You’re not from the outside, +then?”</p> + +<p>“No,” she rejoined. “I am a native.”</p> + +<p>He showed restless curiosity now. “Tell me,” he began, +engagingly, “about this country. What, for instance, must one do, must one +be, to–to be–well, to be accepted as a native!” He said this +much as one feeling his way among a people new to him, as if, conscious of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> informal nature of +their meeting, he would ease that informality, yet did not know precisely +how.</p> + +<p>Yet Helen found herself quite comfortable in his society now, and, permitting +herself great freedom, she spoke almost with levity.</p> + +<p>“You have asked me a difficult question,” she said. +“Offhand I should say you must ride every morning, sleep some part of the +early afternoon, and–oh, well, ride the next morning again, I +reckon.” And she smiled across at him. “Are you thinking of staying +with us?”</p> + +<p>He nodded soberly. Then he went on. “What else must one do?” he +asked. “Is that all?” His eyes were still twinkling.</p> + +<p>Helen herself was sober now. “No,” she replied, “not quite. +One must think a little, work a little, do a little good. We are very close +together down here–very close to one another–and very, very far from +the rest of the world. So we try to make each day register something of value, +not alone for ourselves, but for our neighbors as well.” She was silent. +“We are a distinct race of people,” she concluded, after a +moment.</p> + +<p>He turned his head. “I like all that,” he declared, simply. +“Though I’m afraid I won’t do–much as I dislike to admit +it. You see, I’ve never learned to live much in the interest of +others.” He regarded her with steady eyes.</p> + +<p>Helen liked him for that, too. Evidently he had had too much breeding, and, +from his remark, knew it. So she took it upon herself at least to offer him +encouragement.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span>“You will +learn,” she rejoined, smiling. “Everybody does.”</p> + +<p>With this, Helen discreetly changed the subject. She entered upon less +intimate matters, and soon, sweeping off into a rhapsody over the +country–its attraction for Easterners, its grip on Westerners–she +was chatting with a freedom typical of the country. For by now she was +interested, and for some inexplicable reason she found herself drawn to the +smiling stranger.</p> + +<p>Also, Pat was interested. But not in the things which appealed to his +mistress. Pat was pondering the sullen nature of the horse beside him, and as +they rode slowly toward town he stole frequent sidelong glances at his +unfriendly companion. But all he could arrive at was that, while appearing +peaceable enough, this horse was the most self-satisfied animal chance had ever +thrown his way. After a time he ceased all friendly advances, such as pressing +close beside him and now and again playfully nipping at him, and took up his own +affairs, finding deep cause for satisfaction in the return of his breath after +the long race, and in the passing of pain from his strained legs, to say nothing +of the complete absence of flying papers around him.</p> + +<p>They crossed the railroad track and entered the town. Here the young man took +a polite leave of Helen, and Pat, seeing the unfriendly horse canter away at a +brisk gait, himself set out briskly, feeling somehow called upon to emulate the +step of the other. And thus he continued through town to the <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> river trail, which he +followed at an even brisker stride, and thence to the ranch and the corral. Here +his mistress took leave of him–abruptly, it seemed–and made her way +straight into the house. Directly the Mexican came and removed his saddle and +bridle. With these things off, he shook himself vigorously, and then took up his +customary stand in the corner, and confidently awaited the reappearance of his +mistress with sugar and apples–a reward she never had denied him.</p> + +<p>But he waited this time in vain.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span><a id='link_8'></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>FELIPE MAKES A DISCOVERY</span></h2> + +<p>Pat waited in vain two whole days. Not once did she come to him, not once did +he lay eyes upon her. He became nervous and irritable, and in this emptiness, +equal to that which he had suffered during the three years she was away, he +spent every waking moment in the corral, standing in his favorite corner, eyes +strained toward the house, occasionally interrupting the silence with a pleading +nicker. But his vigil gained him nothing, his watching remained unrewarded, his +outcries went unanswered. Finally, with the close of each day he would enter the +stable, but only to brood through half the night–wondering, wondering. But +never did he give up hope. Nor had he given up hope now, this morning of the +third day, when, standing in his corner as usual, he heard a door close in the +house.</p> + +<p>As always, his heart leaped with expectation, and he gave off a protracted +whinny. Also he pressed close to the fence. This time he was not disappointed. +For coming slowly toward him, with her hands behind her back, was his +mistress.</p> + +<p>“Pat,” she began, standing close before him, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> “I have neglected you purposely. +And I did it because I have lost confidence in you.” She regarded him a +long moment coldly, then was forced to smile. “I suppose I feel toward you +much as I used to feel toward a doll of mine that had fallen and cracked its +head. I want to shake you, yet I can’t help but feel sorry for you, +too.” And again she was silent.</p> + +<p>Pat shifted his feet uneasily. He did not quite understand all this, though +he knew, despite the smile of his mistress, that it was serious. Still, +encouraged by the smile, he pressed close and asked for sweets, nuzzling her +coat-sweater persistently. But she stepped away. Whereupon he reached his neck +after her, and became almost savage in his coaxing. Finally he was relieved to +see her burst into a peal of laughter.</p> + +<p>“Here!” she said, and held out both hands. “I don’t +care if your head is broken!”</p> + +<p>Glory be! Two red apples in one hand; a whole handful of loaf sugar in the +other! If ever a horse smiled, he smiled then. Also, he promptly accepted some +of the sugar, and, enjoying every delicious mouthful, reached for an apple. But +she drew back. Evidently she was not yet finished with her reprimand.</p> + +<p>“Blissfully unconscious of your behavior that morning, aren’t +you?” she continued. “Not a bit ashamed; not one speck +regretful!”</p> + +<p>Well–he wasn’t. He was not a bit ashamed, not one speck +regretful. Merely, he was sweet-hungry. And now that the sugar was gone, he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> wanted one of those +apples mightily. Finally she gave him one, and then the other, feeding them to +him rapidly, but not more rapidly than he wanted them. Then she spoke again.</p> + +<p>“Pat dear,” she said, her voice undergoing change, +“I’m troubled. I am foolish, I know. But I can’t help it. I +advised that very nice young man to ride every morning. And he may do it. But if +he does, sooner or later, perhaps the very first morning, we shall meet up there +on the mesa. I want that, of course; but for reasons best known to Easterners, I +don’t want it–not yet.” She gazed off toward the mountains. +“I reckon, Pat dear,” she concluded, after a moment, turning her +eyes back to him, “we’d better ride in the afternoons for a time. +Yet the afternoons are so uncomfortably hot. Oh, dear! What shall I +do?”</p> + +<p>But the horse did not answer her. All he did was stand very still, eyes +blinking slowly, seemingly aware of the gravity of the situation, yet unable to +help her. Indeed, that her serious demeanor had struck a note of sympathy within +him he presently revealed by once more pressing very close to her–this in +the face of the fact that she had no more sweets with her and he could see that +she had no more. The movement forced her back, and evidently he perceived his +mistake, for he quickly retraced one step. Then he fell to regarding her with +curious intentness, his head twisting slowly in a vertical plane, much as a dog +regards his master, until, evidently finding this plane of vision becoming +awkward, he stopped. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +After which Helen playfully seized his ears and shook his head.</p> + +<p>“You’re a perfect dear!” she exclaimed. “And I love +you! But I’m afraid we–we can’t ride mornings any +more–not for a while, at any rate.” With this she left him.</p> + +<p>He followed her to the gate, and with reluctance saw her enter the house. +Then he rested his head upon the topmost board and, though he hardly expected +it, waited for her return. Finally he abandoned his vigil, making his way slowly +into the stable. He found both horses in their stalls, restlessly whisking their +tails, offering nothing of friendliness or invitation. Also he awoke to the +depressing atmosphere here, and after a time returned to the corral, where he +took up a stand in his favorite corner and closed his eyes. Soon he was +dreaming.</p> + +<p>Sound as from a great distance awoke him. He opened his eyes. Outside the +fence, and regarding him gloatingly, were two swarthy Mexicans in conversation. +This was what had awakened him.</p> + +<p>“Bet you’ life!” one was saying, the taller man of the two. +“Thot’s my li’l’ horse grown big lak a house–and a-fine! +Franke, we gettin’ thot <i>caballo</i> quick. We–”</p> + +<p>A door had closed somewhere. The men heard it and crouched. But neither +abandoned the ground. After some little time, hearing nothing further to alarm +them, they set out along the fence to a rear door in the stable. It was not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> locked, and they +lifted the latch and tiptoed inside. Up past the stalls they crept with cat-like +stealth, gained the door leading into the corral, came to a pause, and gazed +outside. The horse was still in his corner, his black coat glistening in the +sunlight, and Felipe once more burst into comment, excited, but carefully +subdued.</p> + +<p>“A-fine! A-fine!” he breathed, rapturously. “He’s +lookin’ joost lak a circus horse! You know, Franke,” he added, +turning to the other, “I haf see thee pictures on thee +fences–” He interrupted himself, for the man had disappeared. +“Franke!” he called, whispering. “You coom here. You all thee +time–” He checked himself and smiled at the other’s +forethought. For Franke was emerging from a stall, carrying a halter. +“Good!” he murmured. “I am forgettin’ thot, +<i>compadre</i>!” Then once more he turned admiring eyes upon the horse. +“Never–<i>never</i>–haf I see a horse lak thot! Mooch good +luck is comin’ now, Franke! Why not?”</p> + +<p>They stepped bravely forth into the corral. Yet their hour had been well +timed. The house was still, quiet in its morning affairs, while the countryside +around, wrapped in pulsating quiet, gave off not a sound. Cautiously approaching +the horse, Franke slipped the halter into position, the while Felipe once more +uttered his admiration. He was a little more direct and personal, however, this +time.</p> + +<p>“Well, you black devil!” he began, doubling his fist under +Pat’s nose. “You haf run away <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_90'></a>90</span> from me thot time, eh? But you don’ run away +again–bet you’ life! I got you now and I keep you thees time! I haf +work for you–you black devil–mooch work! You coom along +now!”</p> + +<p>They led the horse into the stable, down past the stalls, and out the back +door. Then they set out toward the river trail, and, with many furtive glances +toward the house, gained it without interruption. Felipe’s lumber rigging +and team of scrawny horses stood in the shade of a cottonwood, and Franke made +the horse fast to the outhanging end of the reach. When he was secure both men +seated themselves just back of the forward bolster, one behind the other, and +Felipe sent his horses forward. Safely out of the danger zone, though Felipe +entertained but little fear of the consequences of this act, believing that he +could easily prove his ownership, he became more elated with his success and +burst out into garrulous speech.</p> + +<p>“You know, Franke,” he began, with a backward glance at the horse +ambling along peacefully in the dust, “thot <i>caballo</i> he’s +strong lak a ox. He’s makin’ a fine horse–a <i>fine</i> +horse–in thees wagon! He’s–” He suddenly interrupted +himself. “Franke,” he offered, generously, “for thees help +I’m takin’ off five dolars on thot debt now. You know? You haf never +pay me thot bet–thee big bet–thee one on thee wagon and thee horses. +And you haf steal seex dolars, too! But I’m forgettin’ thot, now, +too. All right?”</p> + +<p>The other nodded grateful acceptance. Then, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_91'></a>91</span> as if to show gratitude further, he very solicitously +inquired into the matter, especially with reference to Felipe’s discovery +of the horse after all these years. They were clattering across the mesa now, +having come to it by way of a long detour round the town, and before replying +Felipe gave his team loose rein.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he began, as the horses fell back into a plodding walk, +“I haf know about thot couple weeks before. I haf see thees <i>caballo</i> +in town one mornin’, and a girl she is ridin’ heem, and everybody is +lookin’, and so I’m lookin’.” He paused to roll a +cigarette. “And then,” he continued, drawing a deep inhale of smoke, +“I haf know quick lak thot”–he snapped his fingers +sharply–“quick lak thot”–he snapped his fingers +again–“there’s my <i>potrillo</i> grown big lak a house! And +so–”</p> + +<p>“But how you knowin’ thot’s thee horse?” interrupted +the other. “How you knowin’ thot for sure?” Evidently Franke +was beginning to entertain grave doubts concerning this visit to the corral.</p> + +<p>But Felipe only sneered. “How I know thot?” he asked, +disdainfully. “I’m joost tellin’ you! I know! Thot’s +enough! A horse is a horse! And I know thees horse! I know every horse! I got +only to see a horse once–once only–and I’m never +forgettin’ thot horse! And I’m makin’ no meestake +now–bet you’ life!” Nevertheless, flicked with doubt because +of the gravity of the other, he turned his head and gazed back at the <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> horse long and earnestly. +Finally he turned around again. “I know thot horse!” he yelled. +“And I’m tellin’ you thees, Franke,” he went on, +suddenly belligerent toward the other. “If you don’ t’ink I’m +gettin’ thee right <i>caballo</i>, I have you arrested for stealin’ +thot seex dolars thot time! Money is money, too. But a horse is a horse. I know +thees horse. Thot’s enough!” Yet he relapsed into a moody silence, +puffing thoughtfully on his cigarette.</p> + +<p>Behind the outfit, Pat continued along docilely. In a way he was enjoying +this strange journey across the mesa. It was all very new to him, this manner of +crossing, this being tied to the rear of a wagon, and he found himself +pleasantly mystified. Nor was that all. Not once had he felt called upon to +rebel. In perfect contentment he followed the rigging, eyes upon the outhanging +reach, for he was intent upon maintaining safe distance between this thing and +himself. Once, when they were mounting up to the mesa, he had met with a sharp +blow from this projection–due to sudden change of gait in the +horses–and he only required the one lesson to be ever after careful. As +for the men forward, he knew nothing of them, and never, to his knowledge, had +seen them before. But in no way was he concerning himself about them. Nor, +indeed, was he worrying over any part of this proceeding. For in his dumb animal +way he was coming to know, as all dumb servants of man come to know, that life, +after all, is service, a kind of self-effacing series <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> of tasks in the interests of others, and +that this ambling along behind the vehicle was but one of the many kinds.</p> + +<p>“And,” suddenly broke out Felipe, who, having threshed the matter +out to his satisfaction, now felt sure of his position once more, “I haf +follow thees girl and thee horse. I haf see thee place where she’s +goin’–you know.” And he winked foxily. “And then I haf +coom to thees place, two, three times after thee horse. But always thee man is +there. But thees mornin’ I’m seein’ thot <i>hombre</i> in +town, and so I haf go gettin’ you to coom help me. But you haf steal seex +dolars. I’m forgettin’ thot–not! And if you say soomt’ing to +soombody soomtime, I’m havin’ you arrested, Franke, for a t’ief and +a robber–same as I ought to arrest thot Pedro Garcia oop in the +canyon.”</p> + +<p>Franke maintained discreet silence. But not for long. Evidently he suddenly +thought of a point in his own favor.</p> + +<p>“You’ havin’ good luck thees time, Felipe,” he +declared, tranquilly, “especially,” he hastened to add, “when +I’m t’inkin’ of thee halter. Without thee halter, you know, you +don’ gettin’ thees <i>caballo</i>.”</p> + +<p>Felipe ignored this. “I haf need a horse,” he went on, +thoughtfully. “Thee mot’er of thees black fel’r–you know, +thot’s thee mot’er–she’s gettin’ old all time. +She’s soon dyin’, thot <i>caballo</i>. Thees black horse he’s +makin’ a fine one in thees wagon.” <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_94'></a>94</span> Franke said nothing. Nor did Felipe speak again. And +thus, in silence, they continued across the mesa and on up the canyon to the +little adobe in the settlement. Arrived before the house, Franke quickly +disappeared in the direction of his home, leaving Felipe to unhitch and +unharness alone. But Felipe cared nothing for this. He was supremely +happy–happy in the return of the long-lost colt, doubly happy in the +possession of so fine a horse without outlay of money. Whistling blithely, he +unhitched the team, led them back into the corral, returned to the wagon again. +Here, still whistling, he untied the black and escorted him also into the +inclosure. Then, after scratching his head a long moment in thought, he set out +in the direction of the general store and a bottle of <i>vino</i>.</p> + +<p>As the man disappeared, Pat, standing uncertainly in the middle of the +corral, followed him with a look in his eyes that hinted of vague memories that +would not down. And well he might be flicked with vague memories. For he was at +last returned to the brief cradle of his babyhood.</p> + +<p>Late that same afternoon, Helen, attired in riding-habit, left the house for +her first afternoon canter. As she slowly crossed the <i>patio</i>, she noted +the absence of Pat from his usual corner, but, assuming that he was inside the +stable, called to him from the gate. But she received no answering whinny. +Slightly worried, she entered the corral and stepped to the stable door, and +again sounded <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> his +name. Again she received no answering whinny. She entered the stable, walked +past the stalls, peered in at each with increasing alarm. Only the saddle-horse +and the family horse met her troubled eyes. She stood for a moment dismayed, +then once more she sounded the horse’s name. But, as before, she received +no answering whinny.</p> + +<p>Puzzled, perplexed, troubled with misgivings, yet refusing to believe the +worst, she fell to analyzing the thing. She knew that since coming to the ranch +Pat at no time had been outside the corral save in her charge. Also she recalled +that only a short hour or two before she had given him sweets and had talked +with him. Nor could the horse have strayed out of the inclosure, because she +remembered that the gate was latched when she had reached it. All these facts +flashed across her as she stood with grave eyes sweeping the stable. Finally she +stepped back to the door and gazed out into the sunlight of the corral; but, as +before, the inclosure was empty and silent, and now, somehow, forbidding. She +called again–called to the horse, called to the Mexican. But again came +only the echo of her voice, sounding hollow and solemn and plaintive through the +stable.</p> + +<p>Suddenly her heart stopped beating. She remembered that the hostler had left +for town on foot early in the morning. And now her fears broke bounds. The horse +was gone! Some one had come in Miguel’s absence. Her Pat had been stolen! +He was gone for ever out of her life! <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_96'></a>96</span> Standing a moment, trembling with bitterness, she +darted out of the stable, out of the corral, across the <i>patio</i>. She sped +into the house and her father’s study, caught up the receiver of the +telephone.</p> + +<p>And then, after a long time, the connection. And her father’s voice. +And her frantic inquiry. And the Judge’s smiling reply. And her recital of +the facts–pleading, pitiful, almost whimpering. And now the Judge’s +serious rejoinder. And then her imperious request that he come home. And the +Judge’s regretful reply–could not on account of pressing matters. +And then her tearful, choking outburst into the transmitter! And now suddenly +the wires crossing and a strange voice demanding that she get off. And with it +her utter collapse. She whirled away from the telephone, flung herself down upon +a couch, and gave way to a wild outburst of tears.</p> + +<p>The thing <i>was</i> pitiful. The horse had occupied a very big place in her +life. And because that place now was empty, and because she saw no promise of +its ever being filled, she sobbed wretchedly a long time. Then, rising quietly, +she ascended the stairs to her room. Here she sank into a chair, one that +overlooked the corral, and began an analysis of the case, taking the affair up +from the very first day of Pat’s coming into her life. She did not go +further than that. Woman that she was, endowed with strongest intuitions and +insight, she knew she had sounded the mystery <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_97'></a>97</span> of his disappearance, had sounded it as clearly as +though she had been present.</p> + +<p>“Pat’s rightful owners have found him and put in their +claim!” She got up and began to pace the floor. “I know it,” +she declared with conviction. “I know it as well as I know I’m in +this room. Pat–Pat has been–been taken and–and–” +Tears choked back her words. Again she turned to her bed and gave way to a +paroxysm of grief.</p> + +<p>Her tears lasted until sleep mercifully descended. And thus she lay, +outstretched and disheveled, until the sun, slanting across the room, settled +its mellow rays upon her. And even though the touch was light and gentle and +somehow sympathetic, it awoke her. She rose and hurried to a window. Out in the +corral all was quiet. She dropped into a chair and turned her eyes to the +east–out over the mesa to the distant mountains. The mountains were draped +in their evening purple, which seemed to her like mourning for her lost +happiness–a happiness that might have been hers always with the horse.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span><a id='link_9'></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE SECOND GREAT LESSON</span></h2> + +<p>Next morning Pat, imprisoned in a tiny stable, tried to get out by thrusting +his head against the door. But the door would not give. Alone in semi-darkness, +therefore, he spent the day. Twice a Mexican youth came to feed and water him, +but always the quantity was insufficient, and always the boy carefully locked +the door after him. Because of this, together with the poor ventilation, Pat +became irritable. He longed for the freedom of the big corral–its +sunlight, the visits of his mistress–but these were steadfastly denied +him. And so through another night and another day, until he became well-nigh +distracted. He stamped the floor, fought flies, dozed, dreamed strange dreams, +stamped the floor again. After three days of this, sounds outside told him of +the return of man and horses. But not till the next morning, and then quite +late, was he released from the odious confinement.</p> + +<p>Felipe bustled in, all eager for business. He drove his recent acquisition +out into the corral and set to work harnessing one of the team–the mate of +the aged mare. When she was bridled <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_99'></a>99</span> and standing in the trail in front of his empty +wagon, he hurriedly returned to the new horse, placed a bridle upon his head, +led him forth, and swung him close beside the other horse. He winced just a +little at the incongruity of the team, though he did not let it delay him. He +picked up the half of the harness and tossed it over the mare’s back. Then +he caught up the other half, and, preparing to toss it upon the black, began to +straighten out deep and unexpected tangles.</p> + +<p>“Well, you black devil,” he began, as he twisted and turned the +much-bepatched harness, “you doin’ soom work now! All you’ +life you havin’ mooch good times! Eet is not for thee fun thot you live, +you know?” he went on, academically, continuing to disentangle the +harness. “Eet is for thee work thot you live! Work–thot’s thee +answer!” Then, having straightened the harness at last, with a grunt of +satisfaction he tossed it lightly up.</p> + +<p>Instantly there was wild commotion. With a kick and a plunge the horse flung +off the harness.</p> + +<p>Felipe stood dumfounded. It had never occurred to him that the horse was not +broken to harness. Horses reared as this one evidently had been reared ought +certainly to be educated to all kinds of service. Yet this horse evidently was +not. He scratched his head in perplexity. To break a horse to harness was no +child’s play, as he well knew. To break a horse of this character to +harness, as he well understood also, was a task that required exceptional +patience and hardihood. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_100'></a>100</span> What should he do? There was his constant press for +money. The aged mare having almost dropped in the trail the evening before, was +unfit for toil, and to break a horse to harness meant loss of time, and, as +every one knows, loss of time meant loss of money. So what should he do? He was +utterly at a loss.</p> + +<p>Striding to the doorstep, he sat down and regarded the horse with malevolent +disgust. After a time, jerking off his hat savagely, he burst out into a +thundering tirade.</p> + +<p>“You black devil! You haf give me more trouble than anyt’ing I haf ever +own–chickens, burro, pigs, horses, money–money, even–money I +haf owe thot robber Pedro! First you haf run away thot time! Then you haf mek me +steal you out of thot place couple days before! And now”–he suddenly +leaped to his feet–“now you haf mek me break you to thees wagon and +harness!” He advanced to the startled horse and brandished his fist. +“But I break you!” he snarled–“I break you like a horse +never was broke before! And–and if I don’ break you–if you +don’ do what I haf say–I break every bone inside!” With this +he began feverishly to peel off his coat.</p> + +<p>And this is the lot of the dumb. Merely for not knowing what a man believed +he should know, Pat was to be humiliated, was to be punished far beyond justice +and decency. And because he was a horse abnormally highstrung and sensitive, +this punishment was to be doubly cruel. To him a blow was more painful than to +the average horse, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +even as a word of kindness sank deeper and remained longer to soften his memory. +On his maternal side he was the offspring of native stock, but he was blooded to +the last least end of him, and while from his mother he had inherited his softer +traits, like his affection for those who showed affection for him, it was from +his sire, unknown though he was, that he inherited an almost human spirit of +rebellion when driven by lash or harsh word, and also the strength to exercise +it. In the face of these qualities, then, he was to be broken to harness and a +wagon by a man!</p> + +<p>Felipe lost little time in preparation. He set out through the settlement, +his destination a distant and kindly neighbor. He moved at a stride so vigorous +that the good townspeople, roused by the rare spectacle of a man in a hurry, +interrupted their passive loafing beside well and in doorway, and turned +wondering eyes after him. But if their eyes showed wonderment at his going, on +his return they showed amazement and a kind of horror. For Felipe, acting for +once in the capacity of work-horse, was straining along at the end of a huge +wagon-tongue affixed to a crude and mastodonic axle which in turn supported two +monolithic cart-wheels. It was a device by which he meant to break the horse to +harness, and, perspiring freely, and swearing even more freely, he dragged it +shrieking for grease through the settlement, really at work, but work which was +not to be admired. Reaching the clearing in front of his house, he dropped the +heavy <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> tongue and +whipped out a red handkerchief with a sigh of relief. Also, as he wiped away the +perspiration on his forehead and neck and arms, he turned baleful eyes upon the +innocent cause of his toil.</p> + +<p>“You black devil!” he growled, after a moment. “I feex you +now–bet you’ life! And you can keeck–and keeck and keeck! You +don’ worry thees cart mooch! You black devil!”</p> + +<p>Then he became active again. He strode back into the corral, sought out an +old harness and a huge collar, and dragged them forward into the trail. Flinging +them aside in the direction of the cart, he then turned to the mare, removed the +work-harness from her, and led her into position before the warlike vehicle. +Again perspiring freely, but losing no breath now in abusive talk, he quickly +harnessed her up and then strode forward to the black. After eying him narrowly +a moment, he seized his bridle and led him back alongside the mare, where he +proceeded nervously to harness him.</p> + +<p>“We see now,” he began, as he picked up the massive collar. +“You can stond still–thot’s right! And maybe you can take +thees t’ing–we see!”</p> + +<p>The collar was much too large for workaday use, but it was not too large for +this purpose. Its very size gave it freedom to pass over the head without the +usual twisting and turning. Nor did the horse rebel when it was so +placed–a fact which gave Felipe much relief, since he now believed <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> that he would not have +the trouble he had anticipated. Also, with the collar in position, he was but a +moment in adjusting the hames, making fast the bottom strap, and hooking the +tugs securely. With everything in readiness he then caught up the reins and the +whip, and stepped away to begin the real work of breaking.</p> + +<p>“<i>Haya!</i>” he cried, and touched up the off-horse. She +started forward, as always with this command from her master. But she did not go +far.</p> + +<p>Pat was the cause of the delay. Understanding neither the contraption at his +heels, nor the word of command from the man, he held himself motionless and +pleasantly uninterested, gazing slowly about at the landscape. Nor did he offer +to move when the man cut him viciously with the whip. The lash pitted his tender +flesh and hurt mightily; but even though he now understood what was required of +him, he only became stubborn–bracing his legs and flattening his ears, +forcefully resisting the counter efforts of the mare beside him.</p> + +<p>And this was his nature. Long before he had demonstrated that he would not be +governed by a whip. That day in the Richardses’ corral, when he was broken +to saddle, cruelty alone would never have conquered him. Cruelty there had been, +and much of it; but with the cruelty there had been other things–evidence +of affection at the right moment, both in his mistress and in the men about him, +and these, coupled with quick understanding, had made the breaking a success. +And <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> had there been +evidence of kindness now, somewhere revealed early by this man, Pat might have +drawn the cart as the straining mate at his side was attempting to draw it. But +there was no evidence of kindness, and as a result he remained stubborn and +wilful, standing braced and trembling, true in every particular to the spirit of +his forebears.</p> + +<p>Nor was Felipe less true to the spirit within himself. Infuriated, +uncompromising, believing this to be merely the cussedness natural with the +native horses, he abandoned all hope of instant success and gave way to +brutality. Dropping the reins and reversing the whip in his hands, he began to +beat the horse unmercifully, bringing the heavy butt down again and again, each +mighty thwack echoing down the canyon. The result was inevitable. The horse +began to kick–straight back at first, then, finding his hoofs striking the +cart, he swung sideways to the tongue and kicked straight out. This last was +sudden, and narrowly missed Felipe, who leaped to one side. Then, unable to +reach the horse with the butt, he reversed the whip again and resumed his first +torture, that of pitting the legs of the horse with the lash.</p> + +<p>“Keeck!” he snarled, continuing to swing the whip. “Keeck! +Keeck! I can keeck, too!” He swung his arm till it ached, when he +stopped.</p> + +<p>Whereupon the horse settled down. But his eyes were ablaze and he was +trembling all over. Also, while undoubtedly suffering added distress from the +taut and binding traces, he continued <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_105'></a>105</span> to stand at right angles to the mare–head +high, nostrils quivering, mouth adrip with white slaver–until the spirit +of rebellion appeared to grip him afresh. With a convulsive heave he moved +again, making another quarter turn, which brought him clear of the tongue and +facing the vehicle. Then he set up a nervous little prancing, whisking his tail +savagely, now and again lifting his heels as if to strike. That was all. He +gained no ground forward, nor did it appear as if he would ever move +forward.</p> + +<p>“You–you–” began Felipe, then subsided, evidently too +wrathful for words. And he remained silent, gazing wearily toward the +settlement, as though about to call assistance.</p> + +<p>The stillness was heavy and portentous. Both horses were motionless. Felipe +continued silent. Off toward the settlement all was still. Overhead, the +early-morning sky pressed low, spotless and shimmering, brooding. Around and +about, the flies seemed to stop buzzing. Everywhere lurked the quiet. The earth +appeared bowed in humiliation, hushed in prayer as for the unfortunate one, +while up and down the trail, basking in world-old light, lay dust of centuries, +smug and contented in its quiescence. All nature was still, gripped in tense +quiet.</p> + +<p>The crack of a whip broke it. Felipe, suddenly bestirring himself, had sprung +forward and dealt the horse a blow with the butt. Across the nose, it had +sounded hollow and distant; and the horse, whipping up his head in surprised +pain, now <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> turned +upon the man a look at once sorrowful and terrible, a look which spelled death +and destruction. Nor did he only look. With a strange outcry, shrill and +piercing, awaking the canyon in unnatural echoes, he whirled in his harness and +reared, reared despite his harness, and struck out with venomous force. It was +quick as a lightning flash, but, quick as it was, Felipe avoided it. And it was +fortunate that he did. Terror-stricken and dropping the whip, he sped to the +rear, to a point behind the cart, and there turned amazed eyes at the +pirouetting horse.</p> + +<p>What manner of horse was this, he asked himself. Could it be that this horse, +black as night, was truly of the lower regions? Certainly he looked it, +balancing there on his hind legs, with his reddened eyes and inflamed nostrils! +And–But what was this? From the corral had come a shrill nicker, the voice +of the aged mare. But that was not it! With the outcry, seemingly an answer to +the black’s maddened outcry, the black dropped to all-fours again, turning +quick ears and eyes in the direction of the sound! What manner of horse was +this, anyway? Never before had he seen such a horse! He felt himself go +limp.</p> + +<p>There is a call in nature that sounds for life against death. It is a call +put forth in innumerable different tongues around the world, and it sounds +somewhere every second of the day and darkness–through jungles, across +swamps, down mountains, over plains, out of valleys. It is a cry of warning, a +cry to disarm foes. It is an <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_107'></a>107</span> outcry of good as against evil–the squawk of +a hen to her chicks, the bleat of a sheep to her lambs, the grunt of a sow to +her sucklings, the bellow of a cow to her calf, the purr of a cat to her +kittens, the whine of a dog to her puppies, the drum of a partridge to her +young. A cry from the heart to the heart, an appeal of flesh to its own flesh, +it is the world-old mother-call.</p> + +<p>And the horse heard this call. He probably did not recognize in it a call of +the mother-heart, any more than it was possible for the aged mare to recognize +in his outcry the voice of her own flesh. What he did hear, no doubt, was the +voice of a friend, one who understood and pitied, and would help if it could +help. At any rate, he stood very still, seemingly grateful for the evidence of a +champion, seemingly anxious that it sound again. But it did not sound again. Yet +he made no further effort to give battle. He held to his attitude of intent +listening, ears cocked forward and eyes straining and tail at rest, until +Felipe, stung into action by an idea wrought out of all this, hastened out from +behind the cart and away in the direction of the corral. At sight of him the +horse became restless again, squaring himself once more to the mare, stamping +his feet and champing his bit nervously. He seemed to lose all recollection of +the outcry, all the peace it had engendered within him. Of such are the kingdom +of the dumb.</p> + +<p>Possessed by his idea, an idea so brilliant that he himself marveled, Felipe +was not long in putting <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_108'></a>108</span> it to test. He hurriedly bridled the aged mare and +led her out into the trail. He placed her alongside the black–for reasons +which, had the <i>compadre</i> Franke been present, Felipe might have suggested +with a crafty wink–then hastily began to unhitch the team-mate. And it was +just here that he proved his foresight. In the work of unhitching the mate, he +should have encountered, and had expected, trouble from the black. But he did +not. The mare sounded another friendly nicker when arranged beside him, and the +black, pricking up his ears sharply, turned to her and proceeded to establish +his friendship by licking her. So Felipe did not meet with difficulty from that +direction; nor did he have trouble in the direction of the team-mate herself. +She seemed glad to be relieved from her unsuccessful task, and Felipe, glad to +relieve her in the light of his brilliant idea, led her off to one side quickly, +then returned and swung the old mare into her place. He hitched her up, picked +up the reins and whip, and set about with his test.</p> + +<p>“We see now,” he began, his voice quiet and encouraging. +“Maybe you work wit’ thee old woman! We see!” And he gave a +low command.</p> + +<p>With the command Pat started forward, urged to it by the aged +mare–pulling more than his share of the load. Perhaps it was due to her +presence; perhaps to the note of kindness in Felipe’s voice. At any rate, +he moved, and he moved forward, and he moved with a steady pull. Yet he did not +proceed far. Though he did not stop <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_109'></a>109</span> through rebellion. It was simply to renew his +attentions to the old mare. He began to caress her as if he really recognized in +this rack of an animal his own lost mother. But recognition, of course, was +impossible. Long before, the only source of recognition, appeal made through +digestive organs, had disappeared. Nevertheless, he lavished upon her unwonted +affection until Felipe gently but firmly urged him forward again. Then again he +proceeded, pulling all of the load this time, bringing about a slack in the +traces of the mare and a consequent bumping of her hind legs against the cart +which seemed to awaken some of her dying spirit.</p> + +<p>Up and down the trail they moved, the mare sedately, the horse actively, +prancing gaily, appearing to take gleeful pleasure in his task, until Felipe, +kindled with elation and pride, decided to drive on into the settlement and +there become the object of covetous eyes. Therefore he urged the team forward to +a point in front of the general store, where in lordly composure sat Pedro, +occupying his customary seat on an empty keg on the porch. At sight of him +Felipe’s joy leaped to the heavens, and he pulled up the team, ostensibly +to adjust a forward buckle, but in reality to afford Pedro an uninterrupted view +of the beautiful black. Moving forward to the head of the horses, he watched out +of the tail of his eye Pedro’s lazy survey of the team.</p> + +<p>“Where you got thot horse?” inquired Pedro, after a long moment, +as he slowly removed a <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_110'></a>110</span> cigarette from between his lips. “I +mean,” he added, “where you haf <i>steal</i> thot +<i>caballo</i>?”</p> + +<p>Felipe winced. But he did not immediately retort. He carried out his bluff, +unbuckling and buckling one of the straps, then mildly straightened up and faced +the man.</p> + +<p>“Pedro,” he began, tensely, “you haf know–José, Juan, +Manuel, Francisco, Carlotta–all haf know–thot eet is only one t’ief +in all thees place! And thot man–thot t’ief–is Pedro +Garcia!”</p> + +<p>Pedro grunted. “Where you haf steal thot horse?” he repeated, +without show of anger. “You can give me thot horse,” he continued, +placidly. “You haf owe me mooch money. I take thot horse for +payment–everyt’ing. You give thot <i>caballo</i> to me.”</p> + +<p>Felipe turned to the team. “I give you one keeck in thee belly!” +he roared. Then he touched up the horses and started back toward the house. Gone +was all elation, all pride, all gleeful consciousness of possession.</p> + +<p>Gaining the clearing, he decided to try out the other horse with the black. +He realized that the aged mare was unfit, even though in the last hour she had +appeared greatly to improve, and he must accordingly match up a team. So he +unhitched her and swung the mate into place. He met with disagreeable surprise, +however. The black would not pull with this horse. Instead, he held himself +quietly at rest, gazing about sleepily over the landscape, a trick of his, as +Felipe had learned, when quietly rebelling. Felipe looked at him a <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> moment, but did not try +to force him with tongue or lash. For he was coming to understand this horse, +and, concluding that sooner or later, under proper treatment, he would probably +accept duty with any mate, determined to abandon work for the day. Whereupon he +unhitched the horses and led them all back into the corral. Then he put up the +bars and set out in the direction of the settlement.</p> + +<p>Which ended Pat’s second great lesson at the hand of man. He was sore +and somewhat stiff from the struggle, but he did not fret long over his +condition, for he soon awoke to the presence of that beside him in the corral +which caused him to forget himself completely. It was the worn-out structure of +skin and bones who had befriended him in his hour of trial. He gazed at her a +moment, then approached and fell to caressing her, showing in this attention his +power to forget self–aches, sores, troubles–in his affection and +gratitude toward all things warranting affection and gratitude.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span><a id='link_10'></a>CHAPTER X<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE STRANGER AGAIN</span></h2> + +<p>Meantime, Helen was becoming desperate over her loss. Unwilling to accept the +theory of her household, which was that Pat had been stolen by a band of +organized thieves and ere this was well out of the neighborhood and probably the +county, she had held firmly to her original idea, <i>viz.</i>, that the horse +was in the possession of his rightful owners, and so could not be far out of the +community. Therefore, the morning following his disappearance, having with sober +reflection lightened within her the seriousness of it all, she had set out in +confident search for him, mounted on her brown saddler. But though she had +combed the town and the trails around the town, quietly interviewing all such +teamsters and horsemen as might by any chance know something about it, yet in +answer to her persistent inquiries all she had received was a blank shake of the +head or an earnest expression of willingness to assist her. So, because she had +continued her search for three days without success, inquiring and peering into +every nook and corner of the community, she finally had come to regard her quest +as hopeless, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> and +to become more than ever an image of despair.</p> + +<p>The evening of the fourth day there was a dance. It was one of the regular +monthly affairs, and because Helen was a member of the committee she felt it her +duty to attend. One of the young men, accompanied by his mother and sister, +drove out for her, but she left the house with reluctance and a marked +predisposition not to enjoy herself. But she forgot this when she presently +beheld the young man from the East whom she had encountered on the mesa. He was +standing close beside a rather frail little woman, undoubtedly his mother, who +with the matrons of the town was seated near a fireplace watching the dancers. +He was introduced. Later they sat out one of his numbers alone together in a +corner behind some potted palms. In the course of their conversation Helen +informed him of the disappearance of her horse, and asked him, as she asked +everybody she met now, if he knew anything or had heard anything concerning the +loss. The young man knew nothing of the great disappearance, however, though he +did offer it as his belief that a horse of Pat’s obvious value could not +long remain in obscurity. This was encouraging, and Helen felt herself become +hopeful again. But when he offered his services in the search, as he did +presently, she felt not only hopeful again, but somehow quite certain now that +it would all be cleared up. For there was that in this young gentleman which +caused confidence. What she <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_114'></a>114</span> told him, however, was that she was grateful for +his offer, and should be greatly pleased to have him with her.</p> + +<p>And thus it was that, on the morning of the fifth day, Helen Richards and +Stephen Wainwright–the young man’s name–together with two of +Helen’s close friends, were riding slowly across the mesa, alert for any +combination in harness which might reveal the lost Pat. Helen and Stephen were +well in the lead, and Helen had broken the silence by addressing Stephen as a +native, recalling their first meeting. Whereupon the young man, smiling quietly, +had wanted to know why; but after she had explained that it was because he had +enlisted himself in the search for a horse, adding that in doing so he had +conformed with one of the unwritten laws of the country, he still confessed +himself in the dark. This had been but a moment before, and she now settled +herself to explain more fully.</p> + +<p>“A horse is, or was, our most valued property,” she began. +“I reckon the past tense is better–though we’ll never quite +live down our interest in horses.” She smiled across at him. “Long +ago,” she went on, “in the days of our Judge Lynch, you know, a +stolen horse meant a hanged man–or two or three–as not infrequently +happened. But all that is history now. Yet the feeling remains. And whenever one +of our horses disappears–it is rare now–we all take it more or less +as a personal loss. In your willingness to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_115'></a>115</span> help find Pat, therefore, you declare yourself one +of us–and are gladly admitted.”</p> + +<p>He rode along in silence. “Why was the feeling so intense in the old +days?” he inquired, after a time.</p> + +<p>“It was due to physical conditions,” she replied–“the +geography of the country. Water-holes were few and very far apart, and to get +from one to another often entailed a journey impossible to a man without a +horse. To steal his horse, therefore, was to deprive him of his sole means of +getting to water–practically to deprive him of his life. If he +didn’t die of thirst, which frequently he did, at best it was a very grave +offense. It isn’t considered so now–not so much so, at any +rate–unless in the desert wastes to the west of us. Yet the feeling still +lurks within us, and a stolen horse is a matter that concerns the whole +community.”</p> + +<p>He nodded thoughtfully, but remained silent. Suddenly Helen drew rein. Before +her was a horned toad, peculiarly a part of the desert, blinking up at them +wickedly. He drew rein and followed her eyes.</p> + +<p>“A horned toad, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Helen shook her head. “Are you interested in such things?” she +inquired.</p> + +<p>“In a way–yes,” he affirmed, doubtfully. “Though I +can’t see good reason for their existence.” His eyes twinkled. +“Can you?”</p> + +<p>Helen was thoughtful a moment. “Well, no,” she admitted, finally. +“Yet there must be a <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_116'></a>116</span> good reason. Reptiles must live for some good +purpose. All things do–don’t you think?” Then, before he could +make a rejoinder, she went on: “I sometimes feel that these creatures were +originally placed here to encourage other and higher forms of life to come and +locate in the desert–were placed here, in other words, to prove that life +is possible in all this desolation.”</p> + +<p>He glanced at her. “Certainly it has worked out that way, at any +rate,” he ventured. “Good old Genesis!” He smiled.</p> + +<p>“It seems to have,” she agreed, thoughtfully. “Because you +and I are here. But it goes a long way back–to Genesis–yes. +Following the initial placing, other and higher organisms, finding in their +migratory travels this evidence of life, accepted the encouragement to remain, +and did remain, feeding upon the life found here in the shape of toads and +lizards–to carry the theory forward a step–even as the toads and +lizards–to carry it back again–fed upon the insects which they in +their turn found here. Then along came other forms of life, higher in the cosmic +setting, and these, finding encouragement in the presence of the earlier +arrivals, fed upon them and remained. And so on up, to the forerunners of our +present-day animals–coyotes and prairie-dogs. And after these, primitive +man–to find encouragement in the coyotes and prairie-dogs–and to +feed upon them and remain. Then after primitive man, the second type–the +brown man; and after the brown man, the red man; and after the red man, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> white +man–all with an eye to sustenance, and finding it, and +remaining.”</p> + +<p>Stephen’s eyes swept around the desert absently. He knew–this +young man–that he was in the presence of a personality. For he could not +help but draw comparisons between the young woman beside him and the young women +of his acquaintance in the East. While he had found Eastern girls vivacious, and +attractive with a kind of surface charm, never had he known one to take so quiet +and unassuming an outlook upon so broad a theme. It was the desert, he told +himself. Here beside him was a type unknown to him, and one so different from +any he had as yet met with, he felt himself ill at ease in her presence–a +thing new to him, too–and which in itself gave him cause to marvel. Yes, +it was the desert. It <i>must</i> be the desert! In this slender girl beside him +he saw a person of insight and originality, a girl assuredly not more than +twenty years of age, attractive, and thoroughly feminine. How ever did they do +it?</p> + +<p>He harked back in his thoughts to her theory. And he dwelt not so much upon +the theory itself as upon her manner of advancing it. Running back over these +things, recalling the music of her voice, together with her spoken musings, he +came to understand why, with that first encounter, he had found himself almost +instantly curious concerning desert folk. Not that he had known why at the time, +or had given that phase of it consideration. He did remember that he had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> strongly impressed +by the way she had managed her bolting horse. But aside from that, there had +been something in her personality, an indefinable calm and sureness, a grip upon +herself, that he had felt the very first moment. Undoubtedly all this had +flicked him into a novel curiosity. He pulled himself together with an +effort.</p> + +<p>“I like your theory,” he answered, smiling. “And it must be +true, because I am told horned toads are fast disappearing. Evidently they have +served their purpose. But tell me,” he concluded, “what is becoming +of them? Where are they going?”</p> + +<p>She laughed. “I can’t tell you that. Perhaps they just vanish +into the fourth–or maybe the fifth–dimension!”</p> + +<p>And this was the other side of her, a side he had come to learn while with +her at the dance, and which made her lovable as well as admirable. But she was +speaking again, and again was serious.</p> + +<p>“I have yet another theory,” she said–“one as to why +these creatures are here, you know.” She smiled across at him. “It +is all my very own, too! It is that in their presence among us–among +mankind–they unwittingly develop us through thought. Thinking exercises +the brain, we are told, and exercising the brain makes for +world-advancement–we are told.” Then, suddenly, “I hope you +don’t think me silly–Mr. Native?”</p> + +<p>But he remained sober. “Tell me,” he asked, after a time, +“what it is about this country–I mean other than friendships, of +course–that <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +gets under a fellow’s soul and lifts it–to the end that he wants to +remain here? I know there is something, though I can’t for the life of me +place it. What is it, anyway?”</p> + +<p>She turned upon him sharply. “Do you really feel that way?” she +asked, evidently pleased.</p> + +<p>“I feel that way. But why do I feel that way? What is it? You know what +I mean. There is something–there must be!”</p> + +<p>“I know what you mean–yes,” she replied, thoughtfully. +“Yet I doubt if I myself, even after all these years, can define it. What +you ‘feel’ must be our atmosphere–its rarity, its power to +exhilarate. Though that really doesn’t explain it. I reckon it’s the +same thing–only much more healthful, more soulful–that one feels in +large cities after nightfall. I mean, the glare of your incandescent lights. I +honestly believe that that glare, more than any other single thing, holds +throngs of people to an existence not only unnatural, but laden with a something +that crushes as well.” She was silent.</p> + +<p>Again Stephen felt the strange pull on his interest, but he said nothing. +After a time she went on.</p> + +<p>“City-dwellers,” she explained, “don’t begin their +day till the approach of dark. It’s true of both levels of society, +too–lower as well as upper. And I believe the reason for this lies, as I +have said, in the atmosphere–their man-made atmosphere–just as the +secret of your feeling the way you do lies in our atmosphere–God-made. +Were <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> this +atmosphere suddenly to disappear, both out of your cities and out of my deserts, +both your world and my own would lose all of their charm.”</p> + +<p>Stephen bestirred himself. “What psychology do you find in that?” +he asked, dwelling upon the fact that she knew his East so well.</p> + +<p>“Merely the effect of softening things–for the soul as well as +the eye–through the eye, indeed, to the soul. Our atmosphere here does +that–softens the houses, and the trees, and the cattle, and the mountains, +and the distant reaches. It softens our nights, too. Perhaps you have noticed +it? How everything appears shrouded in a kind of hazy, mellow, translucent +something that somehow reacts upon you? I have. And I believe that is the secret +of one’s wanting to remain in the country, once he has exposed himself to +it. It is a kind of spell–a hypnosis. When out of it one wants to get back +into it.</p> + +<p>“I know I felt it when I was East, attending school,” she went +on, quietly. “Living always in this atmosphere, I somehow had forgotten +its charm–as one will forget all subtle beauty unless frequently and +forcibly reminded of it. But in the East I missed it, and found myself restless +and anxious to get back into it. Indeed, I felt that I must get back or die! So +one day, when your Eastern spirit of sudden change was upon me, I packed and +came home. It was a year short of my degree, too. But I could not remain away +another day–simply had to get back–and back <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> I came. My degree–my +sheepskin”–she was smiling–“couldn’t hold +me!”</p> + +<p>“Then you’ve spent some time in the East?” he asked, +tentatively.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she replied, “that much–three years. And I +didn’t like it.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” he asked, a little surprised.</p> + +<p>She regarded him curiously. He saw a look of mild annoyance in her eyes, one +that seemed to tell of her inability to understand so needless a question.</p> + +<p>“I just didn’t,” she rejoined, after a moment. “I +discovered that you Easterners value things which are diametrically opposite to +the things we value, and that you value not at all those things which we value +most of all.”</p> + +<p>He had to laugh. “What are they?” he wanted to know.</p> + +<p>For an instant she showed shyness. “Oh, I can’t say,” she +declared, finally. “Some day I may tell you.”</p> + +<p>Stephen realized that it must be serious. He was hesitating whether to press +her further, when he saw her tighten her reins, put spurs to her horse, and go +flashing off in the direction of the mountain trail. As she dashed off he heard +her call out:</p> + +<p>“Pat!” she cried. “Pat! It’s Pat!” Then she +glanced to the rear. “Adele! Sam! It’s Pat! Come, quick!”</p> + +<p>Stephen spurred on with the others. He galloped after this hard-riding +girl–so intensely <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_122'></a>122</span> alive–a girl past his understanding. Over +dunes and across flats he charged, followed closely by the others, urging his +horse to his utmost. But, try as he might, he could not overtake her or even +lessen the distance between them, so furious was her race for her lost horse. +Finally he burst out upon the trail and drew rein beside her, standing with the +others in the path of an oncoming wood-wagon, anxiously awaiting its slow +approach.</p> + +<p>It was a curious outfit. One of the team, an aged and decrepit horse, was +laboring along with head drooping and hoofs scuffling the trail, while beside +it, with head erect and nostrils aquiver and hoofs lifting eagerly, stepped the +glorious Pat! Both horses were draped in a disreputable harness, crudely patched +with makeshift string and wire, and both were covered with a fine coating of +dust. Atop all this, high and mighty upon an enormous load of wood, sat a +Mexican, complacently smoking a cigarette and contentedly swinging his heels, +evidently elated with this prospect of parading his horse before a group of +Americans. But as he drew close a look of uneasiness crept over him, and he +pulled up his team and shrugged his shoulders, as a preliminary, no doubt, to +disappearance behind the Mexican shield of “No sabe!”</p> + +<p>Helen swung close to him. There was a choice between a contest and diplomatic +concession. She decided to offer to purchase the horse at once, believing this +to be the easiest way out of the trouble.</p> + +<p>“<i>Señor</i>,” she began in Spanish, “<i>deseo comprar</i> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> <i>aquel caballo +negro. Puedo pagar cualquire cantidad razonable por el. Se perdio y nosotros lo +cuidamos, y he aprendido a quererlo mucho. Si usted quiere venderlo me haria un +gran favor. Siento mucho que me lo hayan quitado.</i>”</p> + +<p>The Mexican looked relieved. He slowly removed his hat with true Castilian +courtesy.</p> + +<p>“<i>Señorita</i>,” he replied, “<i>lo venderia con gusto +pero pienso que me paga lo que quiero por el</i>.”</p> + +<p>Which delighted Helen. “<i>Pagare lo que sea.</i>”</p> + +<p>The Mexican hesitated a moment. “<i>¿Pagara cuarenta pesos?</i>” +he asked, finally. “<i>Yo tambien quiero al caballo mucho</i>,” he +added. “<i>Pero por cuarenta pesos pienso–pienso que lo +olvido.</i>” And he grinned.</p> + +<p>Helen turned to the others. For Stephen’s benefit she explained what +had been said, and the men promptly offered to make up the required forty +dollars. Helen turned to the Mexican, accepted his price, and requested him to +release Pat from the harness. Whereat the Mexican smiled broadly; shrugged his +shoulders suddenly; forgot his rôle of “No sabe.”</p> + +<p>“How,” he burst out–“how I’m gettin’ +thees wagon to town? I’m pullin’ eet myself?”</p> + +<p>The others laughed. Then Helen, deciding upon another arrangement, instructed +him to drive forward. She could see her father in town, she explained to the +others, and there also, after the exchange of money, the Mexican could purchase +another horse. Which closed the matter. The Mexican started the team forward, +while <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> the others +fell in alongside, ranging themselves on either side. Thus they journeyed into +town–a strange cavalcade–Pat prancing, the mare drooping, the +Mexican visibly pleased, the others gratified by their unexpected success. In +town they turned into a side street, and there Helen left them, going off in the +direction of her father’s office. When she returned, the Judge was with +her. He read the Mexican a brief but stern lecture on the law pertaining to the +recovery of lost property, and closed the deal. Whereupon the wood-hauler +unharnessed Pat, bestowed him smilingly upon Helen, and took himself off, +evidently in quest of another horse, for he headed straight as a plumb-line for +the city pound.</p> + +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Pat was home again. He knew it from many things–the white fence, the +clean stable, the Mexican hostler with broom in hand. And though he was at home +where he wanted to be, yet he found himself filled with vague uneasiness. After +a time he sought to relieve it. He made his way into the stable, but he found no +relief there. He returned to the corral, and began slowly to circle inside the +fence, but neither did this relieve him. Finally he took up his old stand in the +sunlit corner, where he fell to listening with ears and eyes attentive to least +sounds. But even this did not relieve him.</p> + +<p>Nor would anything ever relieve him. Never would he find absolute solace from +his inner disquiet. For what he sought and could not find, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> what he listened for and could not +hear, was another of those sounds which had relieved the tedium of his brief +stay in the mountains, the friendly nicker of the aged mare, gone to toil out +her life in the racking treadmill between town and mountain.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span><a id='link_11'></a>CHAPTER XI<br /><span class='h2fs'>LOVE REJECTED</span></h2> + +<p>Pat had just been clipped. And never was there a horse nearer perfection! +Shorn of all hair, his splendid physique, now in fullest maturity, stood out +clean-cut and fascinating.</p> + +<p>In weight he might have tipped the scales at ten hundred pounds. In color his +skin, which now showed clearly, was a shade darker than that of the elephant, +but it showed the richness of velvet. His body through the trunk was round and +symmetrical; his haunches were wide without projection of the hip-bones; and his +limbs, the stifle and lower thigh, were long and strong and fully developed. +Added to these, he was high in the withers, the line of back and neck curving +perfectly; his shoulders were deep and oblique; and his long, thick fore arm, +knotty with bulging sinews, told of powerful muscles. And finally, his knees +across the pan were wide, the cannon-bone below thin and short, the pasterns +long and sloping, and the hoofs round and dark and neatly set on. While over +all–over the small, bony head, beautiful neck and shoulders–over the +entire body, clear down to the hoofs–ran a network of <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> veins like those on the back of a leaf, +only more irregular–veins which stood out as though the skin were but thin +parchment through which the blood might burst. A rare horse, rare in any +country, doubly rare in this land of the small Spanish product, was the rating +given to Pat by men trained to judge value at sight. And so widespread did this +appraisal become, along trail, beside camp-fire, in bunk-house, that it was +known throughout the length and breadth of the Territory, and beyond the +Territory, that Judge Richards was the owner of a horse the like of which never +had been seen south of the Pecos.</p> + +<p>For several days after the clipping, Helen did not choose to ride. So Pat was +permitted the doubtful pleasure of loafing about in the inclosure. Then one +morning, when the winter day was unusually warm, he awoke to a great clatter of +hoofs outside the corral. Directly he saw a party of young people, men and girls +under the chaperonage of a comely matron, dismounting in high spirits. As the +party swung down he saw his mistress appear from the house, attired in her +riding-habit, and, understanding the object of all this, since these parties had +become frequent in the past two months, he pressed close to the fence, anxious +to be off. The Mexican bridled and saddled him; his mistress and the others +mounted; soon all clattered out upon the river-trail.</p> + +<p>The day was beautiful, and Helen, riding, as usual, beside Stephen, both in +the rear, enjoyed the morning keenly. Overhead, out of a shimmering <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> azure sky, the sun +beamed mildly down, penetrating the chill of the morning, yet leaving enough +tang to bring a bloom to their cheeks. On their left the river, high with melted +snows from the north, moved in slow eddies near the shore, quicker eddies away +from the shore, steady and swift flow in the middle–a changing, +fascinating panorama. There fell a long silence before she turned to the young +man beside her.</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Native,” she began, smiling, “I hope you +don’t mean to bury yourself this morning! For more than a month you have +had very little to say to me. I don’t like it, because I can’t +understand it, and so I won’t have it!” Then she became serious. +“Whatever is the matter, Stephen?”</p> + +<p>Pat, walking slowly beside the unfriendly horse, was attentive. He heard his +mistress’s voice, and somehow knew she was troubled. Then directly he had +positive proof of this, for she suddenly began to stroke his neck and shoulders. +Always she did this when thoughtful, but though he strained his ears for further +sounds of her voice, he did not hear her. What he did hear presently was the +voice of the young man, and having learned long before to discriminate between +different shades of the human voice, he knew from its low and tense quality that +the topic was a vital one. He listened sharply, heedful of any least change of +intonation that might be interpreted as a climax. But instead he was relieved +presently to hear the voice of his mistress again, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> breaking in upon the low, constrained +tones of the young man.</p> + +<p>Pat held his ears steadily back. He noted that her voice was well under +control, and she appeared to be answering the young man. Also, it was quite +evident that she was not accepting his argument, whatever it was. Yet her voice +took on many delicate changes. Sometimes he heard a note of pleading; again, +mild exasperation; and once a falling inflection which hinted at sadness. So it +continued, his mistress talking as he had never heard her talk before, until the +group ahead drew rein and wheeled, indicating their intention of returning. Then +once more the voice of his mistress changed suddenly and became light, even gay, +leaving Pat, as he himself was turned around, a very much mystified horse.</p> + +<p>Yet this gaiety did not last. When they were well on their way back toward +the ranch, with the sun higher and brighter in the heavens, and the trail +correspondingly whiter and more dazzling to the eye, he found himself listening +to grave tones again–the voice of the young man. He talked steadily now, +his flow of words always tense, though occasionally interrupted by the other +with a quiet rejoinder. Then suddenly he ceased altogether, and Pat, acutely +conscious of the silence which descended upon them, was relieved when it was +broken by sounds of laughter ahead. Still the pair above him did not speak. Each +appeared to be adrift on a sea of thought the like of which he had never known. +And it continued, this ominous <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_130'></a>130</span> silence, and became heavier, until he saw the ranch +loom up ahead. Then he felt his mistress urge him into a canter that she might +join the others for the parting. But when the party broke up, as it did with +much good feeling, and he found himself turned loose to one side, with his +mistress and the young man walking into the shade of a cottonwood, he found +himself forced, since he now was out of range of their voices, to forego any +further listening, keenly against his desires. So he gave it all up as a bad +job.</p> + +<p>“Stephen,” began Helen, seating herself upon a hummock of earth, +“I am sorry–sorry beyond words–that it has turned out this +way! I must admit that I like you–like you very much! But–but I am +afraid it is not the sort of liking you ask.”</p> + +<p>He was seated beside her, reclining upon one elbow, absently thrusting the +tip of his riding-whip into a tuft of grass. And now again, as before that +morning, he told her of his very great love for her, his deep voice vibrant with +emotion, grimly acknowledging himself as unworthy of her, yet asking with rare +simplicity that she take him anyway, take him in spite of his unworthiness, +declaring it as his belief she would find him in time worthy–that he would +try to make himself worthy–<i>would</i> make himself worthy–would +overcome those faults which evidently–though she had not as yet told him +what they were–made him impossible in her eyes. Then suddenly he asked her +to tell him precisely what these <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_131'></a>131</span> faults were. He knew that he had many and could +only blame himself for them. But which of them did she find chiefly +objectionable? He was pitiable in his pleading.</p> + +<p>But Helen shook her head. “I–I can’t tell you, +Stephen,” she declared, her voice breaking. “It–it is too much +to ask of–of any girl.”</p> + +<p>He rose, turning toward the distant mountains, bright and smiling in their +noonday splendor. As his eyes dwelt upon them in brooding silence, Helen gained +her feet. And, aware of her great part in this wretchedness, she took his hand +very gently in her own. Subtly conscious of the touch, realizing the tumult in +his soul, she found herself suddenly alive to a feeling within her deeper than +mere pity and sympathy. It was the anguish preceding tears. Quickly withdrawing +her hand, she turned and fled to the house. Inside, she slowly approached a +window. He was leading Pat into the corral; and, watching him unsaddle and +unbridle her horse, her treasure, she awoke to something else within her, a +strange swelling of her heart, different from anything she had ever known. It +was like ownership; it was a something as of maternal pride, a something new to +her which she could not fathom. She turned away. When she looked out again, her +eyes dry and burning, he was riding slowly along the trail toward town.</p> + +<p>It was the beginning of the end. Winter passed, with horses abandoned for the +delights, swift-following, of dinner and dance and house party. <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> These affairs made deep +inroads upon Helen’s time, and so Pat was left pretty much to his own +reflections.</p> + +<p>Yet he managed to fill the days to his satisfaction. Standing in the stable, +he loved to watch the snow-capped mountains, and the tiny white clouds scudding +around them, and the mellow radiance of golden sunlight streaming over them. +Also, gazing out of the little square window, he spent long periods in viewing +the hard brown of the nearer mesaland–the dips and dunes and thread-like +arroyos, with an occasional horseman crawling between. Or else, when he found +himself yearning for his mistress, he would turn eyes upon the house, and with +lazy speculation regard its sun-flecked windows, tightly shut doors, and smoking +chimneys, in the hope that she might step forth. Then came more mild weather +when he would spend long hours outside the stable, in his corner in the corral, +there to renew his silent vigil over nature and the house from this vantage. +Thus he filled his days, and found them not so long as formerly in his babyhood, +when each hour was fraught with so many little things that demanded his closest +interest and attention.</p> + +<p>Nights found him early at rest. But not all nights. Nights there were when +the house would be lighted from cellar to garret, when spectral forms would move +in and out of doors, and when shadows would flicker across drawn shades. Such +nights were always his nights, for he would hear sounds of merriment, and voices +lifted in song, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +and above the voices, tinkling toward him on the crisp air, the music of a +piano. Such nights were his nights, for he knew that his mistress was happy, and +he would force open the stable door, step out under the cold stars, and take up +his stand in his corner, there to rest his head upon the topmost board and turn +steady eyes upon the scene of merriment until the last guest had departed.</p> + +<p>Always on these nights, with wintry chills coursing down his legs or +rollicking along his spine, he found himself wanting to be a part of this +gaiety, wanting to enter the house, where he instinctively knew it was warm and +comfortable, where he might nuzzle the whole gathering for sugar and apples. But +this he could not do. He could only turn longing eyes upon the cottage and stand +there until, all too soon, sounds of doors opening and closing, together with +voices in cheery farewell, told him that the party was at an end. Then he would +see mysterious forms flitting across to the trail, and lights in the house +whisking out one by one, until the cottage gradually became engulfed in +darkness. Then, but not till then, would he turn away from his corner, walk back +slowly into the stable, and, because of the open door, which he could open but +never close, suffer intensely from the cold throughout the long night.</p> + +<p>One such occasion, when the round moon hung poised in the blue-black dome of +heaven, and he was standing as usual in his corner, with eyes upon the +brilliantly lighted house, he became suddenly aware of two people descending the +rear porch <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> and +making slowly toward him. At first he did not recognize his own mistress and the +young man who had been her almost constant companion since that memorable fright +on the mesa eight months before. But as they drew closer, and he came to know +the slender form in white, he sounded a soft whinny of greeting and pressed +eagerly close to the fence. The pair came near, very near; but neither of them +paid the least attention to him–a fact which troubled him deeply. And +directly his mistress spoke, but, as she was addressing herself to the young +man, this troubled him even more. But he could listen, and listen he did.</p> + +<p>“Stephen,” she was saying, “you <i>must</i> accept my +answer as final. For you must know, Stephen,” she went on, quietly, +“that I have not changed toward you. My answer to-night, and my answer +to-morrow night, and my answer for ever, in so far as I can see, will be what it +was last autumn. I am more than sorry that this is so. But it is so, +nevertheless.” She was firm, though Pat, knowing her well, knew that it +required all the force of her trembling soul to give firmness to her words.</p> + +<p>Stephen felt something of this as he stood beside her in grim meekness. With +his hungry eyes upon her, he felt the despair of one sunk to utter depths, of a +man mentally and physically broken. For he loved this girl. And it was this +love, God-given, that made him persist. In the spell of this love he realized +that he was but a weak agent, uttering demands given him to utter, and unable, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> through a force as +mighty as Nature herself, to do otherwise. Yet though he was utterly torn apart, +he was able, despite this mighty demand within him, to understand her viewpoint. +He had understood it from the first. But the craving within would not let him +accept it.</p> + +<p>“I suppose,” he rejoined, “that the one decent course for +me would be to drop all this. But somehow I can’t. I love you that way, +Helen! Don’t you understand? I cannot let go! I seem to be forced +repeatedly to make–make a boor of myself!” There was a +moment’s silence. “Yet I have resisted it,” he went on. +“I have fought it–fought it with all the power I have! But I–I +somehow–cannot let go!”</p> + +<p>Helen said nothing. She herself was coming to realize fully the depths of +this man’s passion. She knew–knew as few women have known–that +here was a man who wanted her; but she knew also, and she was sorry to know it, +that she could not conscientiously give herself to him. She regretted it not +alone for his sake, but for her own as well. She liked him, liked him better +than any other man she had ever known. But she knew that she could not marry +him, and believed in her heart that her reasons for refusing him were just +reasons. But she remained silent, true to her decision.</p> + +<p>When Stephen spoke again it was not to plead with her; he seemed at last to +have accepted her refusal for all time. But he asked her reason for absolutely +refusing him–not that it mattered <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_136'></a>136</span> much now, since he faced the inevitable, but +thought the knowledge might in future guide and strengthen him. He talked +rapidly, hinting at beliefs and idolatries, comparing West with East, and East +with West, while he stood motionless, one hand upon the fence–earnest, +sincere, strong in his request. When he had uttered his last sad word, Helen +found herself, as she searched his drawn profile pityingly, no more able to deny +him an answer than at the time of their first chance meeting she could have +controlled the fate which had brought it about.</p> + +<p>“Stephen,” she burst out, “I will tell you–though I +don’t want to tell you–remember! And if in the telling,” she +hurried on, “I prove rather too candid–please stop me! You will, +won’t you?”</p> + +<p>He nodded listlessly.</p> + +<p>“To begin with,” she began, quietly, dreading her task, “we +as a people are selfish. We are isolated here–are far from the center of +things–but only certain things. We are quite our own center in certain +other ways. But we are selfish as regards advancement, and being selfish in this +way–being what we are and where we are–we live solely for that +advancement–for the privilege of doing what we will, and of knowing! It is +the first law of the country down here–of my people! We have aims and +aspirations and courage all peculiar to ourselves. And when we meet your type, +as I met you, we come–(Now, stop me when I get too severe!)–we come +to know our <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> own +values a little better–to respect ourselves, perhaps–though perhaps, +too, I shouldn’t say it–a little more. Not that you lack virtues, +you Easterners, but they differ from ours–and probably only in kind. And +exactly what your type is you yourself have made plain to me during our many +little trips together in the saddle. And–and now I fear I must become even +more personal,” she broke off. “And I am very sorry that I must. +Though I know you will forgive me. You will, won’t you?” And she +looked up at him wistfully. “You thought it might benefit you to know. +This is only my opinion. Others may not see it this way. But I am giving it for +what it is, and I am giving it only because you asked it and have asked it +repeatedly.”</p> + +<p>He roused himself. “Go on,” he said, with evident forced +lightness. “I see your viewpoint perfectly.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” she resumed, hurriedly, “you lack ambition–a +real ambition. You have ridden horses, played tennis, idled about clubs. You +were a coddled and petted child, a pampered and spoiled youth. You attended a +dozen schools, and, to use your own language, were ‘canned’ out of all of +them. Which about sums up your activities. You have idled your time away, and +you give every promise of continuing. I regret that I must say that, but I +regret more deeply that it is true. You have many admirable qualities. You have +the greatest of all qualities–power for sincere love. But in the qualities +which make one acceptable <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_138'></a>138</span> down here–Wait! I’ll change that. In +the qualities which would make one acceptable to me you are lacking to a very +considerable degree. And it is just there that you fill me with the greatest +doubt–doubt so grave, indeed, that I cannot–and I use the verb +advisedly–cannot permit myself to like you in the way you want me to like +you.”</p> + +<p>Again he bestirred himself. “What is that, please? What is that +quality?”</p> + +<p>“I have tried to tell you,” she rejoined, patiently. “It is +a really worth-while ambition. You lack the desire to do something, the desire +to be something–a desire that ought to have been yours, should have been +yours, years ago–the thing part and parcel of our blood down here. It may +take shape in any one of a hundred different things–business ventures; +personal prospectings; pursuit of art, science; raising cattle–anything, +Stephen! But something, something which will develop a real value, both to +yourself and to your fellow-man. We have it. We have inherited it. We got it +from our grandfathers–our great-grandfathers, in a few cases–men who +wanted to know–to learn–to learn by doing. It is a powerful force. +It must be a powerful force, it must have been strong within them, for it +dragged them out of the comforts of civilization and led them into the desert. +But they found what they sought; and in finding what they sought they found +themselves also. And what they found–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span>“Was +something which, having drawn them forward to the frontier, filled them with +dislike for those who remained behind?”</p> + +<p>“If you wish to put it that way–yes.” Her answer was +straight and clean-cut.</p> + +<p>“But what of those who remained behind?” asked Stephen, alert +now. “Surely the quality was there! It must be there yet! Those of the +old-timers who remained behind must have stayed simply because of circumstances. +Good men often curb the adventurous spirit out of sheer conscientious regard for +others who–”</p> + +<p>“It is you, Stephen!” interrupted Helen, quietly. “It is +you, yourself. All Easterners are not like you, I well know. Yet you and your +type are found in all parts of the East.”</p> + +<p>Stephen stood for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the mystic skyline. Then +he turned to her as if about to speak. But there was only the silent message of +his longing eyes. Finally he turned away and, as if unconsciously, fell to +stroking the horse.</p> + +<p>He had nothing to say, and he knew it. The girl was right, and he knew that. +She had pointed out to him only what others at different times had mildly tried +to make him see. He was a rich young man, or would be after a death or two in +his family. But that in itself was no excuse for his inertia. Many had told him +that. But he had never taken it seriously. It had remained for the little woman +beside him to make him fully realize it. She alone had driven it home so that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> it hurt. Yet +between this girl and the others who had taken him mildly to task there was the +difference between day and darkness. For he loved this girl, and if she would +not marry him for reasons which he knew he could remedy, then it was up to him +to accept her criticism, which was perhaps a challenge, and go forth and do +something and be something, and reveal his love to her through that effort. What +it would be he did not know. He did know he must get out of the town–get +out of the Territory, if needs be–but he must go somewhere in this country +of worthy aspiration and live as he knew she would have him live, do something, +be something, something that for its very worth to her as well as to all mankind +would awaken her ready response. Such a move he realized, as he stood beside +her, would be as decent in him as she in her criticism had been eloquently +truthful. The vigor, the relentless certainty, with which she had pointed out +his weakness–no one before had had the courage to deal with him like this. +And reviewing it all, and then casting grimly forward into his future, he +suddenly awoke, as he gently stroked this mettled horse, to a strange likeness +between the spirit of horse and mistress. He turned to Helen.</p> + +<p>“You are very much alike,” he declared–“you and your +horse.” Then he paused as if in thought. “The spirit of the +desert,” he went on, absently, “shows itself through all the phases +of its life.”</p> + +<p>Helen brightened “I am glad you think that of us, Stephen,” she +answered, as if relieved by <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_141'></a>141</span> this unexpected turn. “Pat is truly of the +desert. He was born and bred in this land of <i>amole</i> and cactus.”</p> + +<p>“And you?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I also,” she replied, gravely. “I too was born and bred in +this land of <i>amole</i> and cactus.” Suddenly she turned her head. +“I am afraid they are looking for us.”</p> + +<p>They returned to the house. Helen’s guests were preparing to depart. +There was much high humor, and when the last but one was gone, and this one, +Stephen, standing on the porch with hat in hand, Helen found that for the moment +she had forgotten her distress. At sight of him, however, it all returned to +her, and she faced him with earnest solicitude.</p> + +<p>“Tell me, Stephen,” she burst out, “that you forgive me my +unkind words, and that you will try to forget them. But whether you succeed in +that or not, Stephen,” she hastily added, her voice breaking, “tell +me that you will continue to be friendly. We want you, all of us–I want +you! I have enjoyed our rides together so much! They have meant much to me, and +I hope they have been enjoyable to you. So let us go on, on this accepted basis, +and be friends. Tell me you will, Stephen!”</p> + +<p>He was silent a long time. Then he told her of his hastily made plans. He was +going away from town, of course. He could not remain, under the circumstances. +Yet where he was going he didn’t know. He would go farther West, +probably–go <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +somewhere and try to make good–try to do something worth while, to be +something worth while. Saying which, he then thanked her fervently for +everything–for her society, for her frank criticism, for having awakened +him to an understanding of himself.</p> + +<p>Helen stood speechless. She had not anticipated this, that he would go away, +that he would leave her. A deep-surging bitterness gripped her, and for a moment +she almost relented. But only for a moment. The spell passed, and she looked at +him with frank, level eyes.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry to hear that, Stephen,” she declared, quietly. +“We want you with us–all of us. But–but tell me,” she +concluded, finding the words coming with difficulty–“tell me that +you feel no–no antagonism toward me, Stephen, because I +can’t–can’t love you as you want me to love you, and that you +understand that–that in deciding as I have I–I only wanted to be +true–true to both of us!”</p> + +<p>For answer he seized both her hands in his. He gazed straight down into her +eyes. “I love you, Helen,” he murmured, and then slowly released her +fingers.</p> + +<p>He left her so quietly that she hardly knew that he was gone. A step on the +trail aroused her, and, lifting her eyes, she saw him striding away with +shoulders back and head erect, as if awakened to a new manhood. And watching him +go, as she felt, for the last time, she could no more control a sob than he at +the moment could turn <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_143'></a>143</span> back. For a while she followed him with wistful +eyes, then, finding sudden need for consolation, she hurried off the porch and +across to the corral. Pat was there to receive her, and she flung her arms +around his neck and gave way to sudden tears.</p> + +<p>“Pat,” she sobbed, “I–perhaps I do love him! Perhaps +I have done wrong! I–I–” She interrupted herself. “What +shall I do, Pat?” she burst out, bitterly. “Oh, what shall I +do?”</p> + +<p>Pat could not advise her. But he remained very still, supporting her weight +with dumb patience, until she turned away, going slowly back into the house. +Then he pressed close into his corner and sounded a shrill, protracted +nicker.</p> + +<p>That was all.</p> + +<p>He saw the door close. He waited, pursuing his old habit, for all the lights +to go out. And directly they began to disappear, one by one, first in the lower +half of the house, then in the upper half, until all save one were extinguished. +This one, as he knew from long experience, was in the room of his mistress. But +though he waited and watched till the moon slanted behind the western hills, and +the stars to the east dimmed and faded, and the gray of dawn stole across the +sky above the mountains–though he waited and watched till his legs ached +from long standing, and his eyes smarted from their steady vigil, and the +Mexican appeared yawning from the depths of the stable, and from over toward +town rose sounds of worldly activity–yet the light in her <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> room burned on. Then the +Mexican drove him into the stable. But not even now did he abandon his vigil. He +entered his box-stall, with its tiny square window, and fixed his troubled gaze +again upon the house. The sky was bright with coming day. From somewhere arose +the crow of a rooster. Out on the river trail a team plodded slowly to +market.</p> + +<p>But the light in the room was still burning.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span><a id='link_12'></a>CHAPTER XII<br /><span class='h2fs'>ADVENTURE</span></h2> + +<p>It was late afternoon when Helen came down from her room. She had regained +her calm. The Judge had gone about his affairs, her aunt was deep in her siesta, +the Mexican woman was bustling about in the kitchen. Refusing this kindly +soul’s offer of food, she walked listlessly into the library and sank into +a huge chair. Spring was well advanced, yet there was an open fire. Elbows upon +the arms of her chair, hands clasped under her chin, she turned unseeing eyes +upon the flickering flames. Motionless, barely breathing, she was a picture of +hopeless grief.</p> + +<p>Yet her thoughts were active. One after another the swift-moving events of +the night before came to her–a night of delightful happenings and +torturing surprises. She recalled that the crowd had been unusually gay, but +that Stephen had been unusually quiet and absorbed. She remembered the games, +and the story-telling, and the toasting of marshmallows in the grate. But over +against these simple pleasures there had been Stephen, entering into the gaiety +only because he must, now forcing a smile, now drawing back <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> within himself, until a chorus of +laughter would again force him to smile. Yet she had understood, and she had +excused him. She had thought him resigned and content to be merely one of the +crowd. And then had come that opportunity which evidently he had sought. It had +come as a surprise. But with it had come also a sudden desire to be alone with +him, and to impress upon him her convictions. So they had gone out into the +moonlight, to the corral fence, and to Pat, where she had endeavored to make +everything clear. And then their return, and the departure of her guests, and +his lingering on the porch, and his decision to go away, to leave her for ever. +He hadn’t put it in just that way! But that was what he was +doing–that was what he had done. He had gone from her for ever.</p> + +<p>The thought hurt. It hurt because she knew what part she had taken in it. She +knew that she herself had sent him away. And when he had left her she knew, as +she knew now, that in her heart she did not want it. For she liked +him–liked his society. She liked his care-free manner, his whimsical +outlook upon her country, his many natural talents–his playing, and the +naïveté of his singing, while he often admitted that his voice hurt him, and so +must hurt others. No, she had not wanted him to go away. And somehow it had +never occurred to her that he would go for ever. But he was gone, and she could +not resign herself. Yet there was no calling him back. She had made a decision, +had forced him to understand certain <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_147'></a>147</span> things. So she must accept it. But it hurt. It was +slowly dawning upon her that she would never forget him.</p> + +<p>Then another thought came to her. Since he was going, and since she had sent +him away, it occurred to her that she ought to help him. It seemed to be her +duty. Yet she could not determine how. He was going forth to prove himself. He +would go where men only could go, and she was but a woman. And she wanted him to +prove himself–she knew that–knew it more with every moment that +passed. She believed he had it in him. Yet she might help in some way. She +wanted to be of some use to him in his undertaking. What could she do?</p> + +<p>Suddenly, as she sat there, seemingly powerless, there came a shrill nicker +whipping across from the corral–the voice of Pat.</p> + +<p>Like a flash she had it! Stephen would go into the cattle country–she +believed that. And in the cattle country he would need a horse, a good horse, +such a horse as Pat. She would present the horse to Stephen! She would send Pat +with him because she herself could not go with him. This she could do. Thus she +would help Stephen to find himself, as her ancestors had found themselves. She +would help him to become what she wanted him to become–a man–a +<i>man</i>! Yes, she would give Pat to Stephen. She would send the horse as she +had sent the man–forth into the world of deeds–deeds denied her +sex.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span>She rose +hurriedly and ascended to her room. At her desk she drew paper and pen toward +her.</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>My dear Stephen [she began her letter],–I am sending Pat to you through +Miguel. I wanted to help you in some way. I cannot help you myself directly, but +in Pat I feel you will have a valuable aid. Take him–take him with my +dearest and best wishes for your success. Pat may actually show you the +way–may actually point the way out to you. Who knows? He understands who +you are, I know, and I am sure he knows what you have been, and what you still +are, to me.</p> </div><!-- block quote --> + +<p class='tar sc'>Helen.</p> + +<p>For a moment she sat deep in thought. Then suddenly awaking to the lateness +of the hour, she arose and, going to the corral, called to the hostler. Miguel +appeared, and she handed him the note, giving him careful instructions the while +in regard to the horse. The Mexican smiled and entered the stable in quest of +saddle and bridle, the while she turned to Pat in his corner and explained what +she was about to do.</p> + +<p>“Pat dear,” she began, nestling her cheek against his head, +“you are going away. You are going with Stephen. Do you remember +Stephen?” Emotion began to grip her. “You have served me well, Pat, +and faithfully. I hope you will prove as true to your new master. I–I +wanted to help him. But I–I +couldn’t–couldn’t–” She could not go on. Gazing up +into his eyes she seemed to see him waver–knew that it was because of her +blinding tears–and abruptly left him and returned to the house.</p> + +<p>In her room she stood weeping at the window <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_149'></a>149</span> overlooking the corral. She saw the Mexican bridle +and saddle her pride, saw him carefully tuck away her note, and saw him mount +Pat with a great show of importance, as though elated with his commission. Then +she saw him ride Pat out of the corral, across into the river trail, and turn +toward town. Seeing her horse go from her, perhaps for all time, she turned from +the window and flung herself across her bed, where she gave way to her grief. +Her Pat was gone! Her Pat–heart of her life–was gone!</p> + +<p>Miguel was indeed pleased with his commission. Never before had he been +astride this so-wonderful horse. As he rode along, testing the ease of +Pat’s gait, noting with what readiness he responded to the reins, he fell +to wishing that it were not so near dusk, since then he might become the object +of envious eyes in town. But he could not control the hour of day, even though +he could control the horse’s movements. So he cantered along until he +reached the town proper, when he slowed Pat into a walk. Lights were being +switched on along the avenue, and in their glare he enjoyed to the full whatever +admiring glances were turned his way from the sidewalks. But as he neared the +hotel where Stephen was stopping he urged Pat into a canter first, then into a +gallop, pulling up before the side entrance with a quick reining that brought +both the horse and himself to a stop with a magnificent flourish. It was +good–as he admitted to himself. Then he slipped to earth. And now his +magnificence <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span> left +him, for he never before had entered this so-beautiful hostelry. Girting in his +belt, however, he strode up the steps, faltered on the threshold, and was +directed to the clerk. This magnate handed the letter to a bell-boy.</p> + +<p>Stephen was seated in his room when he read Helen’s note. When he +raised his eyes he stared unseeingly at the light across the street, deep in +thought.</p> + +<p>He knew what this had cost Helen. Riding with her almost every day for +months, he could not but understand the depth of her attachment for the horse. +Pat for years had been the one big factor in her life. And now she was giving +Pat to him, to help him prove himself. It was a great thing to do, so great that +he must accept it, and already, at this proof of her interest, he somehow felt +assured of success. Also he saw a way open. He would go down into the cattle +country, make a connection with some cattle interests, and, with Pat as guide +and friend and capable servant, work out his destiny. Exactly what that would be +he did not know. But he did know that he was going after it.</p> + +<p>He turned to the boy still standing in the doorway. “Tell the man that +I’ll be down directly,” he said. Then he made his way into his +mother’s suite of rooms.</p> + +<p>The frail little woman showed surprise at his decision. But she said nothing. +She nodded quiet acquiescence and went on with her instructions to her maid, who +was laying clothing away <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_151'></a>151</span> in preparation for the return East in the morning. +Evidently she knew her boy. Whereupon Stephen, after explaining further, though +no more fully than before, left her, descending to the office.</p> + +<p>Miguel was standing awkwardly near the doorway, and with Stephen’s +appearance touched his hat and led the way outside. Pat was facing three boys, +the center of their interest, but when Stephen approached him, and talked to +him, he turned and responded with a soft whinny, seeming to understand. Miguel +remained at a respectful distance, awaiting orders. Then telling him to wait for +a note to be taken to Miss Richards, Stephen re-entered the hotel.</p> + +<p>The boys swirled off in play. Miguel stood alone with the horse. There were +but few persons on the streets, since it was early evening and people were at +supper. Miguel’s wandering eyes at length rested upon the swing-doors of a +saloon opposite–rested there a long time. Finally, unable longer to resist +their spell, he glanced at Pat’s bridle, noted that the reins were +securely tied, and then yielded to the attention of the saloon. In a moment the +swing-doors closed upon him.</p> + +<p>They had barely ceased swinging when out of a doorway just down the street +stole the figure of a man. He was young, smooth of face, garbed in blue shirt +and overalls, with eyes well concealed under a black sombrero low-drawn. He +moved out of the shadow cautiously, with many furtive <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> glances about him. Then he swiftly +crossed the street, hurried along the sidewalk to Pat, and reached the +horse’s head and bridle. Untying the reins from the post, he leaped into +the saddle. Then he swung Pat around, put light spurs to him, and urged him +rapidly across the avenue. Beyond the avenue toward the north lay Stygian +darkness. In these black depths he disappeared.</p> + +<p>At this moment the clerk in the hotel was aroused by the unusual spectacle of +one of his guests–young Wainwright–leaping down the stairs. He +looked up with a surprised question. But Stephen ran past him, across the +office, without heed. He gained the door, rushed down the steps, and shouted. +The boys ceased playing, a passer-by came to a stop, out of the saloon opposite +stepped Miguel. Miguel hastened across, drawing his hand over his mouth as he +ran. Stephen opened upon him breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“He’s gone!” he burst out. “I saw it from my window. +A young man in blue shirt and overalls. The horse has been stolen!”</p> + +<p>Miguel threw up both hands in despair. “<i>Valgame Dios!</i>” he +cried. “I am lose my job!” He looked about him blankly.</p> + +<p>Sick at heart, not knowing what to do, Stephen himself bolted back into the +hotel. He entered the telephone booth and rang up the Judge’s office. It +was late, but he took a chance. The Judge answered the call. His voice was weary +with the strain of a long day.</p> + +<p>“Who in thunder wants me at this hour?” he <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> drawled, not unpleasantly. +“Can’t you let a man–”</p> + +<p>Stephen interrupted with an apology. Then he told the Judge of the loss. The +Judge’s voice changed instantly.</p> + +<p>“Fine business!” he snapped. “But I reckon I know who to +look for. There’s only one man–one gang–in the Territory that +would do that in that way. It’s a job for the range police.” Then +his voice softened. “Don’t worry, Stephen!” he added. +“You just sit tight. I’ll take it up with the +authorities.”</p> + +<p>Stephen left the booth and entered the writing-room. Here he added a sad +postscript to his note to Helen. Then he went outside, despatched Miguel with +the letter, returned to his room and sat down, disconsolate and angry.</p> + +<p>To have Pat sent to him with this noble generosity, and then to lose him! +Surely fate was more than unkind. The horse, given into his keeping, had been +wrested from him at once. Yes, he was all that Helen had intimated that he +was–a man incapable of trust, a man such as she could never permit +herself–and he recalled her words now with rankling bitterness–to +care for in the way he wanted her to care for him. Knowing that Pat was gone +from him, and gone in such ignoble fashion, he knew that he never could face the +horse’s mistress again. This was bitterest of all! For a time he gave way +to despair.</p> + +<p>Presently he awoke to a sense of stern responsibility. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> The horse had been delivered. Miguel +had safely delivered him. It was all up to him then, Stephen, and to nobody +else. He alone was responsible, and it was his duty to get Pat back. Out of his +self-doubting this realization came with a sense of comfort. His course now lay +clearly before him. He would get the horse back! He <i>must</i> get him back! +There was nothing else left for him. For if he ever expected to return to Helen, +and this was his life’s hope, he must return to her with the horse. He +could return to her in no other way.</p> + +<p>He saw the difficulties. This was a large country, and he knew but very +little of its activities. He recalled what the Judge had intimated–that +the character of the thieves was such as to offer no encouragement of successful +pursuit to any but men schooled to the country and the habits of the thieves. +Yet against this and in his favor was the widespread reputation of Pat, and that +certainly ought to be of some help in his pursuit. But, difficult or +easy–take a month or a year–take five years–he would get Pat +and return him to his mistress! The Judge had spoken of range police. Why +couldn’t he enlist with these men, enlist in any capacity, and accompany +them till such time as he should learn the country well enough to venture out +alone if necessary in his quest? At any rate, he would have a talk with the +Judge–would see him early in the morning. He arose to his feet. The thing +was settled in his mind. Also for the first time in his life his view <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> had an object. He would +go forth into life, get that which it withheld from him, bring it back and place +it before the woman of his choice.</p> + +<p>And now, so great is the power, so prompt the reward, of energy rightly +applied, he found himself whistling as he began to toss wearing-apparel into a +traveling-bag.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span><a id='link_13'></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>IN THE WASTE PLACES</span></h2> + +<p>Pat well knew that this new experience was a strange thing. The trip with the +hostler, the unusual hour of day, the appearance of his mistress’s friend, +the stranger out of the night, the hurried departure from the hotel, all told +him that. But whether it was right or wrong, he did not know. His mistress had +quite sanctioned his leaving the corral, and so all things developing out of +that must have her sanction also–thus worked his instincts. So not once +had he rebelled. Nor was he rebelling now. And yet–and this was his +emotional conflict–within him was a vague feeling that he should rebel, +should kick, buck, toss, and pitch, and throw off this stranger. It grew upon +him, this feeling, until, in a section of town unfamiliar to him, he decided to +give way to it, to take a chance, anyway, of unseating this man and dashing back +into that part of town familiar to him. But he did not. Suddenly a soothing +voice restrained, the voice of his rider, which swept away for a time all +thought of rebellion.</p> + +<p>“So you’re Pat!” the man said, and, though his <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> voice was gentle, and +perhaps kindly, as Pat judged the human voice, he yet somehow did not like the +owner of it. “Well, they hain’t lied to me, anyway,” went on +the voice. “You’re one nice piece of horseflesh!”</p> + +<p>That was all. But somehow it dispelled all discontent within Pat. Thereafter +he thought only of his task, which was that of holding to a devious course +through winding alleys and streets well under rein, until he found himself on +the river trail and heading south through a section not unfamiliar to him. Then +his interest only quickened.</p> + +<p>As he went on, it came to him that he rather liked this traveling through the +gloom of night. It was a new experience for him, and the trail, familiar to him, +yet somehow not familiar, offered much of interest. Ranch-houses, clumps of +trees, soft-rustling fields of alfalfa, looming up before or beside him, taxed +his powers of recognition as the stars in the heavens, becoming ever more +overcast, withdrew, and with them the moon, leaving the earth and its objects +finally mere tragic outlines. These objects, rising silently before him, gave +him many fitful starts, and seemed to forbid this night-incursion. But he held +to the trail, for the most part in perfect contentment, enjoying his unwonted +call to duty, but wondering whither it was leading him.</p> + +<p>This contentment did not last. It broke as he found himself rounding a bend +which he recognized as leading to the river bridge. The change <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> came not through the +flicking of his conscience like his former feeling, but through sudden awakening +to physical discomfort. For a time he did not know what it was–though he +had questioned the new grip on the reins, the rider’s seat, his weight. +There it was. The man’s weight. Miguel had been heavy, of course, but +Miguel’s seat had been short-lived. This man must weigh fully as much as +Miguel, and twice as much as his mistress, and he had been on his back now a +long time. There came another something. As Pat grew aware of the weight it +seemed to become heavier, so he decided to seek relief of some sort. He dropped +back into a walk, grimly taking his comfort into his own control. And, half +expecting that the man would force him into a canter again, he continued at a +walk. But neither by word nor movement did the man show that he noticed the +change. So Pat settled to his task again, once more enjoying quiet +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>But neither did this last. He soon found another cause for dissatisfaction. +He found it because, unconsciously, he was looking for it. He found it this time +in the tight grip on his reins, which was setting up a sore chafing in the +corners of his mouth. His mistress had never held him so tightly. The result of +it, together with his other discomfort, was that he became sullen and +antagonistic, and, descending the slight grade to the bridge, he determined to +resist. And resist he did. He came to a sudden stop, threw down his head, +pitched and bucked frantically. His <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_159'></a>159</span> efforts carried him all over the trail, and once +dangerously near the edge and the turbulent waters below. But he found himself +unable to throw off the weight.</p> + +<p>“Guess maybe–I made–a slight–mistake!” exploded +the rider, clamping his knees against Pat. “But go–go to +it–old trader!”</p> + +<p>Pat accepted the challenge. For this he knew it was. He leaped and twisted; +returned to earth with a jolt; pitched and tossed and bucked. And he kept it up, +fighting grimly, till he discovered its futility, when he stopped. A moment he +stood, breathing heavily, then he set out across the bridge, whisking his tail +and wriggling his ears, all in spirited acceptance of reluctant defeat.</p> + +<p>He did not attempt further rebellion. Slow-kindling respect stirred within +him for this man upon his back–the respect but not love which one +entertains toward the mighty, and he gained the end of the bridge and turned +south along the trail, partly reconciled. Yet he had not rebelled in vain. The +grip on his bit no longer annoyed him, and though the weight still remained +heavy, somehow it seemed more endurable now through some cause which he could +not determine–probably his increased respect for it. So he trotted along, +amiably disposed toward all the world, pleasantly anticipatory of the immediate +future, ears and eyes alert and straining toward all things. On his left the +river gurgled softly in the desert stillness–a stillness sharply broken. +From afar off came a strange call, the long-drawn howl of a coyote. <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> It was not alone. +Instantly from a point dead ahead rose another, grooving into the echo of the +first in a staccato yelp. Then the first opened up with a choking whine that +lifted steadily into an ecstatic mating-call, and Pat saw a black something, +blacker even than the night, leap against the far, faint skyline, dangle +seemingly a trembling moment, then flash from view across the desert.</p> + +<p>Which was but one of the many incidents that served to hold his interest and +increase his alertness as he fox-trotted along the road. Nor was one of them +without its informing value. For this was his first night journey, and what he +saw now would remain with him vividly, helping him to become as successful on +night trails as he was now by day.</p> + +<p>Something else came to him out of the darkness. It was off to his distant +right and well back from the river. It was a tiny gleam of light, shining out of +the density of the desert. He watched it with studied interest. It glowed like a +cat’s eye, and, fascinated, quietly speculative, he kept his eyes upon it +until, as he turned a bend in the trail, he saw another light flash into view +close beside the first, and equal to it in brilliancy. Suddenly, watching these +lights, his interest leaped higher. This was his destination. He instinctively +knew it. And presently he was certain of it, for his master, urging him to the +right, now sent him along a narrow path that led straight toward the lights.</p> + +<p>Within a very few moments Pat found himself <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_161'></a>161</span> before a hulk of an adobe. It was a long, rambling +structure, somehow forbidding, and he blinked as he stared with faint +apprehension at the lamplight streaming out of two windows. Directly the man +dismounted and, making the reins fast to a post, walked toward the house. For a +moment Pat saw his tall figure silhouetted in the doorway, to the accompaniment +of a quiet chorus of greetings from within, then he saw the door close upon him, +and immediately afterward a hand appear at the windows and draw down the shades. +And now he felt a great loneliness creep over him, slowly at first, then somehow +faster as he heard voices within sink from a cheerful note of greeting to a low +rumble of discord.</p> + +<p>He began to take heed of objects close around him. He discovered, now that +all light was shut off, that he was not alone. To his left stood two horses, +with heads drooping, legs slightly spread, reins dangling, quiet and patient in +their mute waiting. Promptly with the discovery he took a step in their +direction, intent upon establishing friendship. But he found himself checked +with a jerk. For an instant he did not understand this. Then he remembered that +his reins were tied, and because his mistress never had deemed this necessary he +came to feel a kind of irritation, though he made no attempt to force his +freedom. Yet, keeping his eyes upon the other horses, he saw that they +themselves were free to come and go, that their reins were dangling on the +ground. And now he realized that he was under suspicion. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> He knew what that was from long +association with the Mexican hostler, and, smarting under it, he determined to +show his new master, and that before many hours had elapsed, he as well as these +others was capable of trust.</p> + +<p>The door flung open and three men filed out. A fourth remained standing on +the threshold, holding up a smoking lamp. Other than the tread of heels no sound +accompanied their appearance, no comment, no laughter, no farewells. This made a +deep impression upon him, and with further misgivings he watched the men descend +the few loose steps and make for the horses, his own master, the tallest of the +men, coming slowly toward him. A moment of gathering reins, then all mounted, +and one, a squat, powerfully built man, evidently the leader, turned in a +southwesterly direction, riding off in the engulfing darkness, heading away from +the river. Seeing this, Pat stepped out after him, pressing close upon the heels +of his horse, conscious that the third horse, ridden by a little man, was +crowding him for second position. But he held stubbornly to his place, and in +this place set out along an unmarked trail. He covered mile after mile at a +fox-trot, mile after mile in absolute silence, until faint rays of dawn, +streaking the sky above a ridge to the east, surprised him into realization of +the quick passage of night and his own prolonged duty therein. It was all very +strange.</p> + +<p>Daylight followed swiftly. From a dull lead color the sky immediately above +the ridge, which <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +stretched away interminably north and south, gave way to a pink indescribably +rich and delicate. Steadily this pink crept over the heavens, rolling up like +the gradual unfolding of a giant canvas, dragging along in its wake hues verging +toward golden yellow, until the whole eastern sky, aflame with the light of +approaching day, was a conflagration of pinks and yellows in all their manifold +mixtures, promising, but not yet realizing, a warmth which would dispel the +spring chill left by the long night. Then, with the whole east blazing with +molten gold, there came the feeling of actual warmth, and with it the full +radiance of day–bringing out in minute detail rock and arroyo and verdant +growth, and an expanse of desert unbroken by the least vestige of animal life. +At this absence of all that which would suggest the presence of +life–adobes, corrals, windmills–Pat awoke again to vague uneasiness +and fell to pondering his future under these men, whom he now instinctively knew +pursued ways outside the bounds of the civilization of his past.</p> + +<p>A voice behind, presumably that of the little man, interrupted the protracted +silence. It was high-pitched.</p> + +<p>“How’s that hoss a-holdin’, Jim?”</p> + +<p>Pat felt a slight twitch on the reins. Evidently the man had been in deep +thought, out of which the voice had startled him. Directly he made answer.</p> + +<p>“I got quality here, Glover–I guess. Can’t never tell, +though. He’s a good horse, but he mayn’t pan out good for +me.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span>There was +further silence.</p> + +<p>“Johnson,” went on the high-pitched voice again, after a time, +“did ye git what Zeke said about the country down there?”</p> + +<p>But the leader seemed not to hear. Straight as an arrow, bulking large upon a +little gray mare, he moved not the fraction of an inch with the question. +Whereupon the little man, after muttering something further about Zeke, relapsed +into silence.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Pat stumbled and fell to his knees. He quickly regained his feet, +however, and resumed the steady forward grind. And grind it now was becoming. +His legs burned with a strange distress, his eyes ached from loss of sleep. +Throughout his body was a weariness new to him. He was not accustomed to this +ceaseless fox-trotting. He could not recall the time when, even on their longest +excursion, his mistress had forced him like this. She had always considered him +to the extent of granting him many blissful periods of rest. He found himself +wanting some such consideration now. He felt that he would like to drop into a +walk or to burst into a canter, knowing the relief to be found in any change of +gait. But this was denied him. Yet, since the other horses gave no sign of +weariness, each appearing possessed of endurance greater than his own, he +refrained, through a pride greater even than his distress, from making of his +own accord any change in his gait.</p> + +<p>Toward noon, as he was brooding over another distress, one caused by gnawing +hunger, he felt <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> +his master draw down. Also, the others came to a stop. With the men dismounted, +he swept eyes over the scene. But he saw nothing that appeared to warrant pause. +The place was dead and desolate, barren of all that which had invariably met his +gaze when pausing with his mistress. But when one of the men began to build a +fire, while the others flung off light saddle-bags from the little gray and the +sorrel–an exceptionally rangy horse–he came in a way to understand. +Further, with the fire crackling pleasantly and his bridle and saddle removed, +he understood fully the cause of this halt. It was time to feed; and, raging +with hunger, he forgot all other distress in the thought that now he would have +a generous quantity of food, which he believed was due him, since he had more +than earned it in his prolonged service through the night. Indeed, so certain +was he of reward, he prepared himself for sugar and quartered apples, and, with +mouth dripping saliva, stood very still, eyes following every move of his new +master.</p> + +<p>But he was doomed to bitter disappointment. Instead of sugar and quartered +apples, his master tied a rope around his neck and, with a friendly slap, left +him to his own devices. Wondering at this, he gazed about him–saw that the +other horses were grazing. Disappointed, fretful, stung into action by hunger +pangs, he set out in their direction, curious to learn what it was they were +feeding upon so eagerly. But, as had happened the night before, he found himself +checked with a jerk. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_166'></a>166</span> He did not like it, for it made him conscious again +of his master’s suspicions. So he turned a sour gaze upon his unrestricted +companions until, forced to it by inner yearnings amounting to acuteness now, he +himself lowered his head and fell to grazing.</p> + +<p>But he found it all too insufficient. His stomach urgently demanded grain and +alfalfa. And he yearned for a little bran-mash. But there were none of these. He +saw not even a tiny morsel of flower to appease his inner grumblings, and +finally, lifting his head in a kind of disgust, he ceased to graze altogether. +As he did so, the men made ready to resume the journey, replacing bridles and +saddles and saddle-bags. Pat found himself hopeful again, believing that with +the end of this prolonged service, which in view of the distance already +traversed must be soon, he would have those things for which his body and soul +cried out. And thus he set forth, occupying his former place in the order of +advance, moving, as before, at a fox-trot and amid silence from the men. He was +still hopeful of better things to come. But it was all a drear experience.</p> + +<p>The grind began to tell upon him. As he trotted along, thirst-stricken, +miserably nourished, weary from loss of sleep and this ceaseless toil, he sought +frankly for cause to rebel, as he had done in the first hour of this strange +call to new duty. And he found it. He found it not only in the man’s +weight, and the infrequent contact of spurs, and the tight grip on the reins, +all as on that first occasion, but he found it as well in other things–in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> the dust thrown up +by the little gray ahead, in the sun’s rays slanting into his eyes from +the west, in the scorching, blistering heat of this same ruthless orb beating +down upon his back. Suddenly, cost him what it would, he dropped out of the +fox-trot into a walk, prepared to fight for this change of stride to the last +breath.</p> + +<p>He did not hold to it, however, even though his master, curiously enough, +permitted him the change. Pride asserted itself, and after a time, of his own +volition, finding the gap between himself and the others much too wide to please +him, he broke into a canter and quickly closed the gap, crowding back into his +place between the other two horses. That was all of rebellion, though the mood +still remained. Bitter, disappointed, nervous, and irritable, he continued +forward, wanting things–wanting food and water, wanting sounds of voices, +wanting a respite from this unnerving grind. But he made no effort to get them +or to show that he wanted them. And he knew why he maintained this attitude of +meek acceptance. He was too weak to enforce his demands. He knew that it +required energy to buck and pitch, and he knew that he lacked this energy. So he +continued along in sullen resignation until, accepting the hint of his +instincts, he closed his eyes. This brought relief, and after a time, his +movements becoming ever more mechanical, he found himself adrift upon a peaceful +sea of semi-coma, oblivious to all trouble–hunger pangs, thirst, +weariness. When he returned to full consciousness, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> somewhat refreshed and fit for farther +distances, he found the sun well down the western sky, the cool of evening +wrapping him about in delightful zephyrs, and he was still keeping his place +between the two horses.</p> + +<p>Dusk found him in a small oasis. His master slipped to earth, and with relief +Pat gazed about him. He saw a clump of trees, and in their depths, glinting out +at him between the trunks, a shimmering pool of water. Also, near these trees, +on the edge of the grove, he saw a shack made up of rough logs. But he was +interested only in the pool, and, when his master removed his saddle, eagerly +and with a soft nicker he stepped toward it. But the man jerked him back. So he +waited, realizing that he had been hasty, till his bridle was removed, when +again he stepped toward the pool. But again he was jerked back, this time by a +firm grip on his forelock. So again he waited while the man placed the +disagreeable rope around his neck. With this secure, he found himself led into +the grove, where he soon was quenching his raging thirst, and where, after +drinking, he felt more kindly not only toward the man, but toward the whole +world. When he was conducted back into the open, and the end of the rope made +fast to a stake, he lifted his voice in a shrill nicker proclaiming his +satisfaction. Then he stood very still, watching the man enter the shack, +utterly absorbed in getting that long-delayed reward of sugar and quartered +apples.</p> + +<p>But again he waited in vain. The man did not <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_169'></a>169</span> reappear; indeed, none of the men reappeared. So +after a time, swallowing his disappointment, he turned his eyes upon the other +horses. As at noon, they were grazing industriously, and he knew what was in +store for him. He regarded them a long moment, trying to bring himself to graze +also, but finding that his knowledge of better things would not permit him. Yet +there was one pleasant surprise. The little gray, sounding a soft whinny, made +her way slowly toward him. This was unexpected friendliness, for the horse had +seemed hostile earlier, and he promptly showed his pleasure by licking her neck +with lavish attention. And though he found her coat gritty with dust, he +continued this generous attention till she lowered her head and resumed her +grazing. This reminded him of his own fierce hunger, and he promptly lowered his +own head, following her example with a kind of gratitude, and fell to grazing +with her, finding in her interest the one ray of light in all the darkness of +his distress and continued disappointment. And thus he fed, keeping with her to +the limits of his tether, until, soon after the candlelight had whisked out in +the shack, she lay down in the yielding sand with a restful sigh. Pat understood +this, but he regarded it with uncertainty, knowing that he himself with the +coming of night always had protection in a stable. Then, deciding that it was +right and fitting, especially as the sorrel also sank into the sand, he himself +bent his knees and lay down to rest in the warmth of the desert.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span>But his lesson +in the open was not yet fully learned. Next morning, with the other horses +astir, and with the men moving in and out of the shack, he saw his master coming +toward him. Reaching him, the man untied the rope from the stake, led him to the +pool of water, and permitted him to drink. Then he returned him to the open, and +there removed the rope from him entirely. But despite this he found that he was +not free from suspicion. For now the man tied a short rope around his fore +ankles, and strode back into the shack, leaving him, as before, to his own +devices.</p> + +<p>Half expecting the man to return with sugar and apples, Pat watched him take +himself off with mild anticipation. But as the man did not return he bethought +him after a time of his sterner hunger, and took prompt step in the direction of +a tuft of grass. Instantly he felt a sharp twitch at his ankles and fell +headlong. For a moment he lay dazed, utterly at a loss to understand, thrashing +about frantically in futile effort to regain his feet. Then he became calm +again, and brought craftiness instead of brute force to bear upon the trouble. +He regained his feet. Then he studied the cause of the disaster, and finally +stepped out again, cautiously now, having learned his lesson. So he did not +stumble. But he did feel the check around his ankles again. Steadying himself, +he saw clearly the cause of his previous discomfiture, but he did not accept it +as defeat. Casting his eyes toward the other horses, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> he awoke to the fact that they, as well +as himself, were hobbled. Watching them, studying them, he finally saw one rear, +strike out with his front legs, and draw his hind legs up to meet the advance. +So that was it! He now knew what he himself must do. Feeling out his hobbles +carefully, gathering quick courage the while, he himself at length reared, +struck out with fore legs, followed up with hind legs, and found himself +directly over the tuft of grass. This was pleasant, and he promptly began to +nibble it, finding it no less toothsome–perhaps more toothsome–for +the effort. And when he had finished this he gazed about for others, and, seeing +others, moved upon each in turn as he had moved upon the first, rearing and +striking, following it with hind legs, rearing and striking again, following +again with hind legs, all successfully. And so he learned his second great +lesson in the open.</p> + +<p>Thus he began his life in the desert. Fraught as it was with much discomfort, +both spiritual and physical, he yet found much of interest in it all, and he was +destined to find in it, as time went on, much more of even greater interest. And +in the days which followed, and the weeks and months following these, because he +showed that he was willing and anxious to learn, to attune himself to the life, +he aroused in all who came in contact with him, men as well as horses, an esteem +and affection which made life smoother and more pleasant for him than it might +otherwise have been.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span><a id='link_14'></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /><span class='h2fs'>A PICTURE</span></h2> + +<p>A hundred miles west from the shack, stretching away from it in an almost +unbroken expanse, was a desert within the desert. <i>Amole</i> and sagebrush and +cactus vied with each other to relieve the dead, flat, monotonous brown. Without +movement anywhere, save for the heat-waves ascending, this expanse presented an +unutterably drear and lonesome aspect. It terminated, or partly +terminated–swerving off into the south beyond–in a long sand-dune +running northeast and southwest. This mighty roll lay brooding, as did the +world-old expanse fringing it, in the silence of late morning. Overhead a +turquoise sky, low, spotless, likewise brooding, dipped down gracefully to the +horizon around–a horizon like an immense girdle, a girdle which, as one +journeyed along, seemed to accompany him, rapidly if he moved rapidly, slowly if +he moved slowly–an immense circle of which he was the center. The sun was +glaring, and revealed here and there out of the drifts a bleached skeleton, +mutely proclaiming the sun as overlord, while over all, around and about and +within this throbbing furnace, there seemed to lurk a voice, a voice of but a +softly lisped word–solitude.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span>Suddenly, like a +mere dot against the skyline, there appeared over the giant dune to the north a +single horseman. A moment he seemed to pause on the crest, then began the long +descent, slowly, with almost imperceptible movement. He was not more than under +way when another dot appeared against the skyline, a second horseman, close +behind the first, who, like the first, after seeming to pause a moment on the +crest, dipped into the long slope with almost imperceptible movement. A third +dot appeared, two dots close beside each other, and these, like the others, +dipping into the descent with almost imperceptible movement, for all the world +like flies reluctantly entering a giant saucer. And then appeared another, the +fifth, and then no more. The last also seemed to pause a brief moment on the +crest, and also dipped with almost imperceptible movement into the long +descent.</p> + +<p>They struck the floor of the furnace. Details began to emerge. One was a fat +man, another was a gaunt man, a third was a little man–all smooth of face. +Then there was a man with a scrubby beard. And there was another smooth-faced +man, riding a little apart from the others, a little more alert, perhaps, his +garments not their garments, his horse a little rounder of outline, a little +more graceful of movement. They might have been in conversation, these riders +out of the solitude. But all were heavily armed. And all rode slowly, leisurely, +taking their own good time, as if this in itself was duty, with orders +uncertain, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> or with +no orders at all. They rode on across the desert within the desert, presenting +three-quarter profile, then, with an hour passing, full profile, then, with +another hour passing, quarter profile, and now, with yet another hour passing, +five agreeable backs–broad, most of them, all topped with sombreros, and +all motionless save for the movement of their mounts. On and on they rode into +the south, underneath a blistering sun at full zenith. They became mere dots +again upon the pulsating horizon, mere specks, and disappeared in the shimmering +haze.</p> + +<p>Solitude, the voice of solitude, the death-stillness, throbbing silence, +reigned once more. Not an animal, not an insect, not a tree, struck the eye. The +arid and level floor was again clean of movement. The sun glared, revealing here +and there out of the drifts a bleached skeleton, in this speechless thing mutely +proclaiming its own sway. Beneath the sun the horizon, an immense girdle, swept +round in unbroken line, pulsating. The turquoise sky hung low, spotless and +shimmering, brooding, dipping smoothly down to the horizon and to the long +sand-dune running to northeast and southwest. Skirting this dune, reaching to it +out of the east, then swerving off to the south beyond, lay the almost unbroken +expanse, the desert within the desert, its dead, flat, monotonous brown relieved +here and there with alternating sagebrush and cactus and <i>amole</i>, +stretching back a distance of a hundred miles to the shack.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span><a id='link_15'></a>CHAPTER XV<br /><span class='h2fs'>CHANGE OF MASTERS</span></h2> + +<p>The interior of the shack was comparatively bare. On the floor, which was of +adobe, and therefore hard and smooth as cement, were five three-legged stools +and a table, all crude and evidently shaped out of saplings from the grove. +There was but a single window, high up, tiny and square, containing neither +glass nor frame, which looked out upon the south. Built against the walls were +some shelves, upon which lay a scant supply of tinware, and in the opposite wall +was a tier of bunks, just now littered with soiled blankets. Evidently this +place had sheltered these men frequently, for each moved about it with easy +familiarity, and obviously it was a retreat, a rendezvous, a hiding-place +against the range police.</p> + +<p>A game of cards was about to be started. The three men were seated round the +table, and before two of them–the younger man, Jim, and the heavy-set man, +the leader, Johnson–was an even distribution of chips. The third man, +Glover, was smoking a short-stemmed pipe, evidently having been cut out of the +play.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_176'></a>176</span>“Jim,” said Johnson, showing his perfect +teeth with an unpleasant grin, “we’ll hop right to this! I think my +little proposition here is fair and square. Thirty dollars in money against that +black horse out there. I told you where you could get a good horse, and you got +one sure enough! And he’s yours! But I’ve taken a kind of shine to +him myself, and why ain’t this a good way to push it over? My little gray +and thirty dollars in money. What’s the matter with it?”</p> + +<p>The other did not appear greatly pleased, nevertheless. Thoughtfully he +riffled the cards a long moment. Then he looked up into Johnson’s black +eyes steadily.</p> + +<p>“Poker?” he asked, quietly.</p> + +<p>“Draw poker,” replied the leader, giving his black mustache a +satisfied twist. He jerked his head in the direction of the chips. “Win +all, take all,” he added.</p> + +<p>Jim lowered his eyes again. He was not more than a boy, this outlaw, and he +had formed a strong attachment for the black horse. And because he had come to +understand Pat and to appreciate him, he hated to think of the horse’s +serving under this bloodless man opposite. Pat’s life under this man would +be a life of misery. It was so with all of Johnson’s horses. Either they +died early, or else, as in the case of the little gray, their spirits sank under +his cruelty to an ebb so low that nothing short of another horse, and one +obviously capable of rendering successful protection, roused them to an interest +in their <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> own +welfare. This was why the little gray, he recalled, had approached the black the +first night after reaching the shack. Evidently she had recognized in him an +able protector, should he care to protect her, against the brutality of her +master. And so to play a game of cards, or anything else, with a view to losing +possession–</p> + +<p>“I don’t hear you saying!” cut in the cold voice of the +other upon his thoughts. “Ain’t the stakes right?”</p> + +<p>Jim looked up. “I guess so,” he said. “I’m +tryin’ to figure–percentages and the like.”</p> + +<p>Again he relapsed into thought. He feared this man as he feared a snake. For +Johnson had a grip on him in many ways, and in ways unpleasant to recall. So he +knew that to refuse meant a volley of invectives that would end in his losing +the horse anyway, losing him by force, and a later treatment of the animal, +through sheer spite, the brutality of which he did not like to contemplate. So +he did not reply; he did not dare to say yes or no. Either way, the horse was +gone. For Johnson was clever with the cards, fiendishly clever, and when playing +recognized no law save crookedness.</p> + +<p>“Jim,” burst out Johnson, controlling himself evidently with +effort, “I want to ask you something. I want you to tell me something. I +want you to tell me who it was grubstaked you that winter you needed grubstaking +mighty bad. I want you to tell me who it was got you out of that scrape over in +Lincoln County two years ago. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_178'></a>178</span> I want you to tell me who it was took care of you +last winter–under mighty trying circumstances, too–and put you in +the way of easy money this spring! But you needn’t tell me,” he +suddenly concluded, picking up the cards savagely. “I know who it was +without your telling me, and you know who it was without my telling you. And now +what’s the returns? When I give you a chance to come back a +little–in a dead-square, open game of cards–you crawl into your +shell and act like I’d asked you to step on the gallows.”</p> + +<p>Jim permitted himself a quiet smile. “I don’t think I’m +playing the hog, exactly,” he rejoined, evenly. “I guess maybe +I’m thinking of the horse as much as anything. And not so much of him, +either, maybe, as of you, the way you handle horses if they don’t dance a +two-step when you want a two-step. In about a week, Johnson,” he +continued, mildly, “you’d have that horse jabbed full of holes with +them Mexican rowels of yours! He wouldn’t stand for that kind of +affection, or I’m no judge of horseflesh. He ain’t used to it; he +ain’t that kind of a horse–your kind! You ought to see that +yourself. You don’t want no spirited horse like him, because either +you’d kill him or he’d kill you. <i>I</i> can see it, if you +can’t!”</p> + +<p>“We’ll now cut for deal,” interposed Johnson, grimly.</p> + +<p>“Take myself,” went on the other, half smiling “why I like +the idea of keeping him. I used to kill cats and rob nests and stone dogs when I +was <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> a kid; but +later I learned different. I didn’t kill cats and rob nests after that; +dogs I got to petting whenever I’d meet one. I got acquainted with animals +that way. Made the acquaintance from both angles–seeing how they acted +under torture, then learning how they acted under kindness. I know animals, +Johnson,” he added, quietly. “And an animal to me is an animal and +something more. A horse, for instance. I see more in a horse than just an easy +way of getting around. But that ain’t you. You’re like a man I once +knowed that kept a dog just because the dog was a good hunter. If I +couldn’t see more in a dog than just what he’s fit for, I’d +quit the sport.”</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll cut for deal.”</p> + +<p>Jim had been rocking back and forth easily on two legs of his stool. He now +dropped forward squarely on the floor and nodded assent.</p> + +<p>“Cut for deal,” he said, quietly. “You!”</p> + +<p>The game began. Glover, who evidently found interest in discussions, but none +whatever in a game of cards, tilted back against the wall and began to talk, now +that the argument was over.</p> + +<p>“Zeke tells me,” he began in a nasal voice, tamping the tobacco +into the bowl of his pipe reflectively, “as how they’s a bunch +o’ Injun renegades movin’ south’ards off the reservation on a +hell-toot. I meant to speak of it afore, but forgot, as usual. Jim’s talk +here o’ animals lovin’ each other that away reminds me.” He +lifted gray eyes to Johnson. “Didn’t Zeke say nothin’ to you +about that, neither?” he asked, evidently <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_180'></a>180</span> mindful of some other grave oversight on the part +of “Zeke.”</p> + +<p>Johnson did not reply until after three or four rounds of the cards. +“Zeke told you a lot of things that hour you sat with him alone,” he +rejoined, with broad sarcasm. “Zeke must like you!”</p> + +<p>“Mebbe,” agreed Glover, accepting the remark with all +seriousness. “He says as how Fort Wingate is out, and I remarks that sich +a move about terminates the performance. He agrees with me–says fust +squint them renegades gits at regular troops they’ll hunt gopher-holes as +places o’ ginerous salvation.”</p> + +<p>The others remained silent. The game was going decidedly against Jim. It had +gone against him from the first–as he had known it would. Yet he continued +to play, watchful of his opponent, keen to note any irregularities. Yet he had +discovered nothing that might be interpreted as cheating. Still he was losing, +and still, despite all beliefs to the contrary, he entertained hope, hope that +he might win. If he did win, he told himself, Johnson was enough of a white man +to accept the defeat and leave the horse where he was. Yet his chips were +steadily dwindling; the cards persistently refused to come his way; only once +thus far had he held a winning hand. But he played on, becoming ever more +discouraged, until, suddenly awaking to an unexpectedly good hand, he opened the +pot. The raises followed back and forth swiftly, but he lost again. And now +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> Johnson, as he +mechanically drew the chips toward him, broke the silence.</p> + +<p>“Zeke got you all worked up, didn’t he?” he declared, +turning his eyes upon Glover. “As for renegades,” he went on, +beginning to deal the cards again, “I’ve knowed ’em–hull +droves of ’em–to stampede on the whistle of a rattler.” +Evidently he was returning to good humor.</p> + +<p>Glover took his pipe from his mouth. “Renegades gits stirred up every +jest so often,” he observed. “I s’pose it’s because of the way +they feel about things. Being run offen the reservations thataway ain’t +nowise pleasant, to begin with, and then havin’ to hang around the aidges +for what grub their folks sees fit for to sneak out to ’em ought to make +it jest that much more monotonous–kind of. Reckon I’d break out +myself–like a man that eats pancakes a lot–under sich circumstances. +Zeke says this band–the latest gang to git sore–is a-headin’ +dead south. Talks like we might run agin trouble down there. More’n one +brand, too–the police and the reg’lars all bein’ out thataway. +They’re all out–Zeke says.”</p> + +<p>The others were absorbed in play, and so made no retort. Whereat Glover, with +a reflective light in his eyes, continued:</p> + +<p>“I’ve seen something myself,” he went on, evidently mindful +of Johnson’s observation. “I’ve seen better men than Injuns +stampede on less than rattlesnakes–and cover a heap more ground in a lot +less shorter time. What I’m talkin’ <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_182'></a>182</span> about is skunks,” he explained, to nobody in +particular–“hydrophoby skunks–their bite. Why,” he +continued, warming to his subject and seemingly ignorant of its myths, “I +once seen a man ride into San Mercial with his face that white it wouldn’t +’a’ showed a chalk mark! And he was holdin’ up his thumb like +it was pizen–which it was! And he was cuttin’ for old Doc Struthers +that fast his cayuse was sparkin’ out of his ears. Bit by a hydrophoby +skunk–yes, sirree. Got to the Doc’s just in time, too! But he allus +was lucky–the Doc! Money jest rolled into that party all the time. But +some folks don’t jest quite make it–horses gives out, or something. +And if they ain’t got the sand to shoot the finger off–”</p> + +<p>A sudden shadow across the window checked him. He quietly reached for his +gun. Also, Johnson lifted quick eyes to the window. And now Jim turned his head. +Directly Glover rose to his feet; Johnson got up off his stool; Jim flung to the +door. A moment they stood tense. Then Jim moved cautiously to the window. He +gazed outside. As he did so his features relaxed. Presently he returned to the +table.</p> + +<p>“That horse,” he explained, eyes twinkling.</p> + +<p>The others returned to their places. All were visibly relieved. But Glover +did not go on with his yarn. Lighting his pipe again, he fell to smoking in +thoughtful silence.</p> + +<p>Jim picked up his cards. He saw four kings. But he felt no elation. Before +him was a mere <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +dribble of chips, and he knew that he could not hold out much longer. Johnson +was coldly surveying his own cards, and after a studied moment opened the pot. +Jim thrust forward half his small stack, followed by Johnson with a raise, +whereupon Jim placed all he had upon the board. That closed the game. The other +spread out his cards generously, and Jim, glancing listlessly at four aces, rose +from the table. Turning to the window, he saw Pat still lingering near the +shack. He gazed at him a long moment in silence.</p> + +<p>“He’s yours,” he said, finally, facing Johnson. +“Reckon I’ll go outside for a little air.”</p> + +<p>Outside, he made straight for Pat, removed the hobbles, led him into the +grove. As the horse quenched his thirst, Jim sat down with his back against a +tree and removed his hat.</p> + +<p>“Sorry, old-timer,” he began, quietly, “but it can’t +be helped. We–” He interrupted himself; shoved Pat away a step. +“That’s better,” he went on, smiling. Then, as Pat looked +puzzled, “On my foot–yes,” he explained. “All of your +own, too, of course!” he added. “But one of mine, too!” He was +silent. “As I was remarking,” he continued, after a moment, +“we’ve got to beat him some other way. You’re a likely +horse.”</p> + +<p>He lowered his eyes thoughtfully. He did know of a way to beat Johnson. That +way was to mount Pat, ride hard for the open, and race it out against the little +gray mounted by Johnson. But already he could see the vindictive and cursing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> Johnson in +pursuit, discharging guns before him. So the idea was hopeless, for he knew that +Johnson even now was alert for some such move. But even if it were feasible, he +realized that he never could rid himself of the man. Others had tried, as he +well recalled–tried to break away from him for all time, with a result in +no way to Johnson’s credit. Two had never been seen again, which pointed +grimly to the fact that Johnson lived up to his favorite maxim, which was that +dead men tell no tales. Another was the case of that poor luckless devil who, +through some mysterious workings of the law, having broken with Johnson, had +been arrested and convicted of a crime long forgotten. But Jim knew, as others +closely associated with Johnson knew, that it was Johnson who indirectly had +sent the unfortunate one to the penitentiary. So it required courage, a kind of +unreasoning desperation, to quit the man and the life he led.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Jim took a new hold upon himself. What, he began to ask himself, was +getting into him? Why was he suddenly thinking of quitting Johnson? What would +he do if he did quit him? To his kind all decent channels were closed for any +but the exceptional man. But that wasn’t it! Why was he arguing with +himself along these lines? What was getting into him? He felt as if some good +and powerful influence was come into his life! He had felt like this in Denver +when a Salvation Army lassie had approached him. But this wasn’t Denver! +Nor was there <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> a +woman! What was it, anyway? He could not decide.</p> + +<p>He arose and laid his hand upon Pat’s forelock.</p> + +<p>“It’s a regular case,” he said, leading the horse out of +the grove, “for something to turn up. It generally does, anyway,” he +concluded. “Don’t it, Old Gravity?”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span><a id='link_16'></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /><span class='h2fs'>PAT TURNS THIEF</span></h2> + +<p>A week passed before Pat knew of his change in masters. But that was not +strange. Busily engaged in keeping himself alive on scant herbage, he took but +little interest in anything else. Besides, his young friend continued to make +much of him, talking in soothing tones and gently stroking his sides, and the +little gray, holding herself faithfully near, also maintained quiet evidence of +friendliness. So he had no reason to suspect change. But one morning, with camp +broken, and saddle-bags flung out, and the window sealed over, and the door shut +and barred, and the other horses bridled and saddled, there came to him in the +person of the large man himself–a person he had instinctively +disliked–the first sign of the change in his fortune.</p> + +<p>The man approached, bridle on arm, to remove his hobbles. He remained +motionless under this, and prepared also to accept the bridle quietly. But in +bridling him the man was rough to an extent he had never before +known–forcing an oddly shaped bit against his tongue, and twisting and +turning his sensitive ears as if these delicate <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_187'></a>187</span> organs were so much refractory leather or metal. +Then came the saddle, and with it further torture. The forward belt was made +snug, which he was accustomed to and expected; but when the rear girdle was +cinched so tight that he found difficulty in breathing, he became nervous and +wanted to protest. It was all very unusual, this rough handling, and he did not +understand it. The effect of the tight cinch was peculiar, too. With the knot +tied firmly, he felt girded as for some great undertaking, his whole nervous +system seemed to center in his stomach, and all his wonted freedom and buoyancy +seemed compressed and smothered. With all this, and the man in the saddle and +spurring viciously, he realized grimly the change in masters.</p> + +<p>They set out at a fox-trot, continuing their southwesterly direction. It was +an unmarked course from the beginning, leading them steadily down into the +Mogollon range, and, as before, Johnson was occupying the lead, with Jim next +behind, and Glover bringing up the rear. And, as on the first leg of the +journey, all rode in silence.</p> + +<p>So Pat was in the lead, and while he found his new master half as heavy again +as the other, he also found compensation for the increased weight in the +position which he occupied. Not that he was proud to be in the lead; nothing +from the beginning of this adventure had caused a thrill of either joy or pride. +But he did find in his new place freedom from dust cast up by the heels of <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> his companions, and he +trotted along in contentment, to all outward appearances. But it was only an +appearance of content. Within were mixed emotions. While he felt pleasure at +being active again, while he was resigned in a way to his hunger pangs, and he +was glad that his friends, the little gray and the young man, were still with +him, yet against all this was a sense of revolt at the unnecessary tightness of +the cinch, the hard hand on the reins, and the frequent touch of spur and heel +and stirrup against his sides. Finally the feeling which began at that initial +torture in bridling swelled with the consequent annoyances into approaching +revolt. He became ugly and morose.</p> + +<p>This soon revealed itself. He was crossing a wide arroyo. Without counting +costs, grimly blind to the result, he burst out of the fox-trot into a canter. +He held to this a thrilling moment, and then, finding himself keyed to greater +exertions, abandoned the canter and broke into a sharp run. It was all done +quickly, the changes of stride lapping almost within his own length, and his +heart leaped and pounded with delight, for the change somehow relieved him.</p> + +<p>But it was a mistake. Quickly as it was done, he found himself almost as +quickly jerked up, swung viciously around, and his sides raked with ruthless +spurs. He gasped a moment under the smarting fire of the spurs, then, as in the +old days, reared in a towering rage. And this was a mistake. Too late he found +the man’s <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span> +weight overbalancing him. He struggled to recover himself, plunged over +backward, and down, striking the earth heavily. Hurriedly he regained his feet, +but not so the man, not till the others sprang to his assistance. Then he +realized what he had done, realized it fully as he caught the venomous gleam in +the man’s eyes and heard the storm of abuse volleying from his lips. Then, +looking at the man, and listening to his raging outburst, he conjured up out of +the dim past memories of the Mexican hostler and of that single encounter in the +white corral. And now his fear for the man left him.</p> + +<p>“I’ll kill him! I’ll shoot the horse!” roared +Johnson, his face yellow underneath the tan. He reached toward his +side-arms.</p> + +<p>But he did not shoot. With his face white and drawn Jim strode to Pat’s +head, while Glover, quick to understand, played the solicitous attendant, +assisting the limping Johnson into the saddle. And that closed the incident. +Presently all were riding along again, with Johnson, wincing under internal +distress, holding his reins more loosely than before.</p> + +<p>But it was not without its good. As on that other occasion in the corral, Pat +had learned something. He had measured a man, and he knew, and knew that the man +knew, that he had come off victor. But it gave him no secret gratification. He +continued to trot along, holding steadily to the gait, subtly aware of the +slackened rein and of the wrenched and loosened girdle, until, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> with the coming of noon, +the blessed relief from the weight of the man, the ill-fitting saddle, and the +over-tight girth, came also an agreeable surprise. He was turned out to graze +without hobble or tether, and for this consideration he felt faint glimmerings +of respect for his new master. Making free at first with the other horses, he +set off to enjoy to the full his new-found liberty.</p> + +<p>But as he pursued ever farther the elusive vegetation in the joy of freedom, +he presently awoke to his great distance from camp, and, indeed, from the other +horses. Conscious of a sudden gripping loneliness and a certain apprehension, he +began to retrace his way. As he did so, out of the silence came a nasty whirring +sound, and suddenly he felt a rope settle over his head. Surprise, then anger, +displaced his loneliness and apprehension; he jerked back to escape the rope. +But it held fast. He braced his legs and began to pull steadily. But the harder +he pulled the worse the rope choked him. Finally he ceased all effort and turned +his eyes along the rope. At the far end stood the little mare, legs braced in +the sand, and astride her, stolid and grim, and with eyes narrowed, the figure +of the large man. At sight of him Pat began to pull again, more through ugliness +now than desire to escape, until he found that he was dragging the little gray +out of her stiffened hold. Then he slackened off. Also, as she wheeled back +toward camp, he set out amiably after her. In camp he found his young friend +scattering and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +deadening the coals of the camp-fire, and the little man making up the +saddle-bags. This told him that the journey was to be resumed, and he stood +quiet and peaceful as he was being bridled and saddled, and afterward he trotted +along under the guidance of his master without show of anger or rebellion. +Indeed, though the sun was hot, and the unmarked trail tedious, and the weight +on his back heavier than ever, he felt less fretful and more contented than at +any time since leaving the little ranch beside the river–possibly because +of the thrill of his double encounter.</p> + +<p>Ahead and on either hand the desert soon began to break and lift. As they +went on the dunes grew to be hills and heights, growing, looming, closing in +upon them. Now and again a clump of trees or a shoulder of rock or a stretch of +foliage stepped out in relief against the brown of the landscape, revealing more +than once ideal grazing-land. Also, as they penetrated deeper into this broken +country, the sky overhead showed change. From a spotless blue it revealed tiny +splotches of gray-white cloud scudding before upper currents. With the passing +hours these clouds became heavy, sullen, and threatening, until the sun, dipping +into the west, sinking in a kind of hazy moisture, left the heavens completely +overcast, cold and bleak and forbidding–a dense mass of cloud-banks down +to the tip of ridge and range. And now came dusk, short and chill, and with it +the slow ascent of a long grade, leading them up to a ridge, low and ragged, +trailing away interminably to north and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_192'></a>192</span> south in the gloom. Complete darkness found them +deep among high hills.</p> + +<p>The men drew rein beside a little stream. They watered the horses, and then, +throwing off saddle-bags and gathering brush, they built a tiny fire. Glover +appeared nervous and worried, and when the meal was ended turned to mount and be +off again. But Johnson called him back. Johnson was seated on the ground, close +beside Jim, and Glover sat down with them. Thus they waited, silent, reflective, +watching, while about them pressed the close night, seeming by its touch to +impart to them something of its solemnity. Off at one side the horses, bridled +and saddled, waited also–watching and waiting, motionless, and over them +all brooded a stillness that was mighty and portentous. Thus they waited for two +hours, wrapped in profound silence, and then Johnson, after scanning the sky, +rose and made for the horses. The others quickly followed him. Their trail led +into a narrow defile. Up this winding way they rode, with Johnson in the lead, +up and ever up, until they burst through a clump of brush at the top. There they +drew rein and again waited, silent, reflective, watching. Presently Glover, with +eyes turned eastward, uttered a grunt which meant relief.</p> + +<p>The clouds in the eastern sky were breaking. Through the heavy banks came a +faint glimmering of moonlight. At first but a hair-line, it widened out, +reaching up and across the sky, developing steadily into the semblance of a +frozen flash of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> +heat lightning, until all the eastern heavens showed a shimmering expanse, +broken here and there by black clouds sullenly holding their own, which flooded +the underscudding desert in beautiful mottled gray-green coloring. Wider and +wider the light spread, up and away on either hand, moving stealthily across the +sky, until the sheen of it broke over the ridge itself, and then swept beyond to +the west, laying bare a broad expanse of mesa dotted with gray-green specks that +told of the presence of hundreds of cattle. And now the sullen clouds took to +weaving, swaying under the pressure of upper-air currents, the specks below +beginning to lift and fall with the motion of the clouds like bits of wreckage +undulate on the sea. The air-drifts descended, came closer, fanning the cheeks +of the men, rustling through the leaves which crowned the ridge, and breaking +the heavy silence. The air-currents flicked the desert with their freight of +swift-moving shadows, causing strange movement among the bits of +wreckage–the cattle. It was a glorious march, lighting up the western +expanse beneath and revealing a flat country, unbroken by dune or cleft as far +as the eye could penetrate. So the light moved on, crowding before it sullen +shadows which presently disappeared.</p> + +<p>Johnson broke the stillness. “We’d better move along down,” +he said, and shook Pat’s reins.</p> + +<p>The horses began the long descent. As compared with the upward climb they +made slow progress. Forced to feel their way, they moved <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span> always in halts and starts, over +saplings, around bulging rocks, along narrow ledges, and at length gained the +mesa, where the men drew rein. Johnson, sweeping his eyes coolly over the field +of his campaign, began to give orders.</p> + +<p>“Jim,” he snapped, “cut in over there–that +arroyo–and crowd ’em around to the south. Don’t go too +deep.” Then, as Jim caught up his reins, “Glover, swing off this +side–close in. We’ll keep close in down to the line. Hop +along!”</p> + +<p>Pat remained standing. He turned his eyes after the little gray and her +rider. He saw the pair swing up over a rise of ground at a gallop, dip from view +into a hollow, and appear again on the level beyond. Across this they rode, +speeding to the opposite slopes, then slackening as they ascended, making +quietly among the nervous cattle, horses and riders moving with the easy +certainty that told of much experience. Then he saw the head and shoulders of +the young man above the surging herd, crowding a part of it slowly in his +direction, to the right, to the left, forward and around, always making steadily +toward him. It was interesting, and he continued to watch the cool steadiness of +the man and the easy control of the horse, until he caught sight of the other, +riding the opposite flank, but also crowding steadily toward him. He fell to +watching this man, who, not so tall as Jim among the herd, but as quietly +active, was also pressing to right and left and forward and around among the +cattle, relentlessly cutting them out. Soon there was a general <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> forward movement, the +young man riding on the far side, the little man closing up the rear, and this +brought the whole herd, some bellowing loudly, others in sullen silence, still +others contentedly munching, directly opposite. Then he felt the prick of spurs, +and, throwing himself eagerly at the task, he galloped around behind the +advancing cattle, falling into the position now abandoned by the little man, who +cantered around and forward upon the left flank. It was exciting, and for a +moment he thrilled. Then came the only interruption.</p> + +<p>A big steer, breaking suddenly out of the herd, tore madly to the rear. Pat, +nearest the escaping beef, was spurred in pursuit. It was unexpected, the +spurring, and it was savage, and, jolted out of soothing reflection, he +flattened his ears and balked. The man spurred him again and again and again, +finally raking his sides mercilessly. Whereupon Pat balked in earnest, bucking +and pitching viciously. At this the man swung his quirt, cutting Pat repeatedly +over head and ears. Yet Pat continued to plunge, holding grimly to his lesson, +which was to teach this man the futility of this treatment. He did not throw the +man off, but neither did he go ahead. Finally the man ceased his brutality, and +evidently coming to understand, headed Pat after the moving herd without spur or +quirt. Then Pat, though still rankling under the cruelty, sprang eagerly +forward, desirous of showing his willingness to serve when rightly used.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span>That was all. +The night passed quietly, the men, alert to their tasks, each separated from the +other, riding stolidly into golden dawn. But not till late, with the sun +half-way to its zenith, and then only because of safe distance from possible +detection, did they draw rein. Saddle-bags were thrown off, though bridle and +saddle were left on in case of emergency, and the horses were turned out on +short tethers. The men risked a fire, since they were in the shadow of a ridge, +and when the coffee-pot was steaming seated themselves on the ground, in a close +circle. For the first time since midnight one spoke. It was Johnson.</p> + +<p>“We’ll hold west of Lordsburg,” he declared, sweeping his +eyes gloatingly over the herd. “Francisco Espor and his gang over the +line’ll weep when they see that bunch–for joy!”</p> + +<p>Jim leaned back upon one elbow. “What was that rumpus last +night,” he inquired, “right after we started?” Then he showed +his thoughts. “I mean, the horse.”</p> + +<p>Johnson swung his head around. For a moment he appeared not to understand. +Then suddenly his eyes lost their good-humored twinkle and grew hard.</p> + +<p>“Lost one,” he answered, abruptly. “The horse +stalled.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared vindictively at Pat. “I +must take a day off, after we get over the line,” he snapped, “and +break that animal to saddle, bridle, spur, quirt, and rope. He ’ain’t +never been broke, that horse, and he’s naturally mean!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span>Jim sat up. +“Not with me,” he declared, quietly, “when we got acquainted. +You ain’t taking him right, that’s all.”</p> + +<p>Johnson eyed him surlily. “You’re a wonderful piece!” he +snapped; and then, by glint of eye and jerk of head showed that he dismissed the +subject.</p> + +<p>But Jim seemed to feel otherwise. “Maybe I am,” he retorted, +turning absent eyes in the direction of the horse. “But I ain’t all. +I happen to know of another wonderful piece. I’m only a one-territory +piece.”</p> + +<p>Johnson grinned. “Go on,” he urged, politely.</p> + +<p>“There’s no ‘go on’ to it,” rejoined Jim, revealing +equal politeness. “I’m only thinking of a piece I happen to know +that runs about a man that’s wanted more or less in seven states and two +territories. Running double, he’s hard to get.”</p> + +<p>Johnson reached over coolly and struck him nastily across the mouth. Then as +coolly he sat back, while Jim slowly rose to his feet. His eyes were +blazing.</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” he said, tensely. “I’ve heard a lot about +your killings,” he went on, breathless with anger. “I guess maybe +that’s the way–”</p> + +<p>“Hush!” broke in Glover, excitedly, his eyes upon the ridge to +the east.</p> + +<p>The others turned. Moving slowly along the crest, disappearing, reappearing, +disappearing again, was the figure of a man. They gazed a long moment, when the +figure dropped from view again. They continued to gaze, silent, rigid, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> watchful, peering +narrowly against the morning sunlight. Presently the figure reappeared, lower +against the gray background, moving slowly as before, evidently crouching. Lower +it came, quarter down the slope, half-way, then again disappeared. Johnson broke +the tense silence.</p> + +<p>“Sheepherder!” he snapped, and turned savage eyes back upon +Jim.</p> + +<p>But Glover leaped to his feet. “If that’s a sheepherder,” +he cried, making for the horses at a run, “then I’m a +sheep!”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span><a id='link_17'></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /><span class='h2fs'>A RUNNING FIGHT</span></h2> + +<p>A rifle-shot forced instant action. Jim whirled away from the camp-fire and +saddle-bags and sprang toward the horses, while Johnson, leaping up with the +agile twist of an athlete, gained his feet running. Jim headed grimly for Pat, +but Johnson reached him a breath in advance. Snatching up the reins and +mounting, he dug Pat viciously with his huge rowels. At that Pat balked. The man +swore and cursed and spurred again; but the horse remained obdurate. Seeing +this, Johnson stopped spurring. Thereupon Pat flung forward, dragging his tether +clear of its stake, and crowded close beside the gray. Jim was mounted on the +gray, bending low in the saddle, racing in frantic pursuit of Glover. Mounted on +the sorrel, Glover was well in the lead, speeding straight into the west, riding +at right angles to the ridge, galloping hard for the open desert. The echo of +the shot reverberated again faintly, and around them closed a tense silence.</p> + +<p>Others were making for the open. Out of the underbrush, riding easily, burst +a handful of rangers. Stephen was one of them. As they <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> swept into the clear country, +well-armed, well-mounted, the look on their strong, bronzed faces told of their +purpose, which was to get the thieves alive, if possible. Down the long slope +they galloped, hats low against the sunlight, elbows winging slightly, heads and +backs slanting to the winds, speeding like a group of centaurs. Other than +Stephen, there were four of these range police. Men of insight, of experience, +keen in the ways of the lawless, knowing best of all the type ahead, they rode +without strain, without urging, knowing that this was a long race, a matter of +endurance, a test, not for themselves so much as for the horses, those of the +pursued as well as their own. Loosely scattered, they rode, eyes not upon the +thieves, but upon the horses carrying the thieves, as if hopeful for another +break like that shown at the start by the magnificent black.</p> + +<p>Thus rode the rangers. Not so Stephen. Stephen knew no such laws. All he knew +was that after long weeks of futile riding, here at last was Helen’s Pat +galloping madly away from him. Lashing and spurring his own bay mare, resolute +and determined, he gradually began to pull away from the others.</p> + +<p>Ahead, Johnson began slowly to gather in his trailing tether-rope. Almost +without visible effort he wound it around his saddle-horn. Whereupon Jim, +evidently aroused to like danger of tripping, set to work at the loop around the +little gray’s neck. The knot was tight, and his position <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> cramped, but he +persisted, and, with it loose, tossed the rope away. Glover already was free +from his trailing rope, having taken the time at the outset hurriedly to cast it +off. And he was still in the lead, the sorrel carrying him without seeming +effort, and moving steadily away from the others, each long stride gaining half +as much ground again as the swinging gait of Pat or the quick and nervous +reaching of the little gray. But all were moving at top speed, racing +desperately across the desert, leaping sand-dunes, dipping into hollows, +mounting eagerly over larger dunes, on and on like the wind, sending up with +each fling of hoof swirling clouds of dust and gravel. It was a grim effort.</p> + +<p>Such a time comes to but few men. And such a crisis tests the mettle of men +and shows the differences. Gripped in a primal emotion, fear for life, weak men +show strength, and strong men weakness. Harmless men murder, murderous men weep, +blasphemous men pray, praying men curse. Yet under such a stress strong men +often reveal greater strength, rising to physical and spiritual heights of +reserve that mock a following fate, even as praying men often pray harder and +more fervently than ever they prayed in times of calm. Individual in peace, +mankind is individual in war. It is the way of man.</p> + +<p>And thus it was with these three hurtling forward in the shadow of doom. +Glover, ever weak, ever apprehensive, yet always considerate of others, now +revealed unexpected strength and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_202'></a>202</span> appeared considerate only of himself. Crouching in +his saddle, apparently mindful of but a single thing–escape–he +lashed his horse brutally, swinging his quirt rhythmically, now and again +darting cold eyes backward. Johnson, given by nature to bravado and bluster, was +even more defiant in this supreme moment. He rode with a plug of tobacco in +hand, biting off huge pieces frequently, more frequently squirting brown juices +between lips white as the telltale ring around his mouth–a ring as +expressive as the hollows beneath his glittering eyes. And Jim, ever worried, +ever conscious of himself, sat in his saddle easily, now that he was about to +reap the harvest of his ill-sown seeds, riding with eyes on the horse +alongside–Pat–studying with coolly critical gaze the animal’s +smoothness of gait, wonderful carriage of head, unusual and beautiful lifting of +forelegs. Thus, in this valley of the shadow, each was his true self and +something more, or less, as the chaotic spirit within viewed the immediate +future or scanned the distant past.</p> + +<p>Another shot from the posse–a screaming bullet high overhead–a +command to stop! But they did not stop. Instead, Johnson, rising in his +stirrups, unholstered a huge revolver and fired point-blank at the rangers. It +was the wrong thing to do, and instantly Jim drew away from the leader. This +left a clear gap between, and exposed the speeding Glover ahead to fire from the +rear. And suddenly it came, a volley of rifle-shots, and Glover, stiffening +suddenly, was seen to clutch at <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_203'></a>203</span> his saddle-horn. Also, he turned his head and +shoulders as if to cry out. But he uttered not a sound. Evidently the jostling +of his sorrel forbade. He turned his head to the front again, and, slumping low +in his saddle, began frantic use of spur and quirt. But the sorrel had lost his +stride, and before he could regain it Jim and Johnson had dashed alongside. Jim +swung close and looked at Glover. Glover returned the gaze, and again appeared +about to speak. But now the sorrel flung forward into his stride, and the +movement seemed to decide Glover against all utterance.</p> + +<p>But Jim understood. He held close to Glover, but turned his eyes after +Johnson. Instantly he scowled and his mouth drew grimly down. For Johnson was +swinging off at a tangent, riding out of the set direction, rapidly pulling away +from them. For one sullen moment Jim regarded him; then turned his head to the +rear. One of the rangers, a young man mounted on a graceful bay–with the +rangers, yet apparently not one of them–was riding well forward out of the +group. Understanding Johnson’s move now, comprehending his utter +selfishness in thus swinging away from them, Jim gazed pityingly at Glover. But +Glover did not notice him. He himself was following the swift-riding Johnson +with blazing eyes, and suddenly he exploded in vindictive anger.</p> + +<p>“Put a hole in him!” he cried, hoarsely. “Shoot him! Shoot +him, Jim! I–I can’t!”</p> + +<p>But neither could Jim. It was not his nature. Yet there was one thing he +could do. And this he <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_204'></a>204</span> did. He took fresh hold on the reins, and, grim and +deliberate and vengeful, swung about after Johnson. Further, in swinging his +horse about he purposely crowded the sorrel over also. This brought both in +direct pursuit of Johnson, and soon they overtook him. But not because of their +greater speed.</p> + +<p>Suffering from an unwonted raking of spurs, Pat had taken to sudden +rebellion–balking at first, then beginning to buck, flinging about in all +directions except the way desired by the fugitive on his back. Riding close and +noting this, Jim felt glad beyond all decency. He even chuckled with +satisfaction, conscious almost of a desire to dismount and hug the black. Then +his feeling changed. He regretted his glee, became fearful for the man, and +called sharply to the horse. And now Pat came to a stand. This for a moment +only. Then of his own accord he sprang forward again, speeding as eagerly now as +but a moment before he had rebelled, and soon he was galloping alongside the +gray. Eminently pleased with the whole performance, Jim again chuckled in +delight and burst forward at top speed.</p> + +<p>Nor was this rebellion lost on Stephen. Riding well forward of the others, +when he saw Pat offering resistance he whipped and spurred his mount in the hope +that Pat would hold out. But Pat did not hold out, though Stephen knew that he +would have, had he but understood. Also, there was his handicap–handicap +of the others also. Neither he nor they dared to fire lest they should <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> shoot the black. +Occasionally the thieves spread apart, thus giving a chance for a shot with safe +regard for Pat. But these openings were infrequent. All they could do was ride +in the hope that the thieves might be seized with panic at last and give +themselves up.</p> + +<p>But no such thought came to the fugitives. Johnson, after his galling +experience with Pat, looked more grimly determined than ever to get away. +Presently he struck back again. He drew a revolver, rose in his stirrups, and +fired twice to the rear. It was not without result. Up from the rangers swept a +chorus of yells, and Jim, turning his head, saw the foremost pursuer, the young +man who was evidently not a ranger, circle headlong over his tumbling horse. He +turned to the front again, and, understanding what would follow, whipped and +spurred furiously. Suddenly the answer came. The desert awoke in a fusillade of +shots, and Jim saw Glover, who once more was in the lead, drift out of his +saddle, slip down much as a child descends from its high-chair, and fall to +earth in a crumpled heap. He swerved and dashed alongside. For an instant he +drew rein and studied the still face. Then he lifted his eyes, gazing off +absently toward the distant skyline, the mellow haze in the hills, the +shimmering of heat-waves above the dunes, the glistening reflections of light +off myriads of tiny sand cubes. Glover–poor Glover–had paid the +price, and had paid it in silence.</p> + +<p>He wheeled his horse and sped after Johnson. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_206'></a>206</span> He overtook him swinging up over a slight +elevation. Dead ahead, not more than two miles distant, he saw a long grove of +trees. It gave him hope. Here was a chance for effective resistance. Here both +he and Johnson could dismount, drive the horses into shelter, seek shelter +themselves, and open fire upon the posse. His spirits kindled. He would shoot to +kill, as he knew Johnson would shoot to kill, and then, with the rangers +helplessly disabled, he would mount Pat, mount the black this time, and if +Johnson became ugly he would shoot him. Then he would ride to the east, ride out +of this life, and with the horse take up a decent existence somewhere, +abandoning crime forever. He would–</p> + +<p>More shots from the rear interrupted him. Evidently the rangers, mounting +over the rise themselves, had also caught sight of the grove. Evidently, too, +they were taking no chances against such a stand as he was contemplating. At any +rate, the firing became rapid and continuous, and it was deadly, for suddenly he +saw Johnson wilt in the saddle, drop his revolver, drop the reins, and clutch at +his left arm. Also he heard a cry–heard it sharp and clear above the +pounding of the gray’s hoofs and the creak and crunch of his own +saddle-leather.</p> + +<p>“I’m hit! I’m hit, boy! They–they’ve got +me!” Pat himself heard the outcry and felt the loosened rein. It puzzled +him. He did not know whether to keep going or to slacken down. But he kept on +going–going hard. Yet he would have welcomed a halt. He was weak and +faint. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span> He could +not remember the time, save that memorable day on the mesa, when he had run so +hard and so continuously. Yet ahead lay trees, and instinctively he accepted +them as his destination. In that grove perhaps was water, an opportunity for +rest, and abundance of food. So he continued forward, grimly conscious of his +burning ankles, his pounding and fluttering heart and heaving and clamoring +lungs–plunging forward under the weak urging of his heavy master, +responding now through force of habit–feeling that because he was in +motion he must continue in motion. It was a numb, mechanical effort, involuntary +and apart from him, as much apart from his control as was the beating of his +heart.</p> + +<p>Another volley came from the rear, and with it another violent change in his +master. The man cried out and loosened his feet in the stirrups. Yet Pat +continued to gallop until he felt the weight slowly leaving him, felt it go +altogether, felt it dangling from one stirrup. Then he came to a stop. As he did +so the little gray dashed past–his friend. And now great loneliness +gripped him. He started forward. But the weight in his stirrup checked him. He +came to a stop again. Then he wanted to nicker in protest, but he found that he +could not. He was too weak to utter sound. So he stood there, his eyes upon the +little gray and her rider, watching them hurtling toward the grove. Then the +thudding of hoofs came to his ears from the rear, and, slowly turning, he saw a +group of horsemen riding wearily–one hatless; <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> another with flaying quirt; a third +with smoking carbine; a fourth, a large man, smooth and red of face, riding +heavily–all galloping toward him.</p> + +<p>But they did not hold his interest. His heart and soul lay with the little +gray mare, and, turning to the front again, he saw mare and rider swinging out +of sight around the end of the grove. Confidently he watched for their +appearance beyond. Presently he saw them sweep into view again–moving at a +gallop, swinging across a wide plain that held them clear to his straining +eyes–saw them grow faint and fainter, small and ever smaller–become +a hazy speck on the horizon–finally disappear from view in the engulfing +dunes and vales of the surrounding desert. And now, weakened as he was, he +sounded a forlorn, protracted nicker of protest.</p> + +<p>The rangers pulled up, breathless. They dismounted stiffly, released the +weight from Pat’s stirrup, and carried it off a little ways. He watched +them a moment, noting their ease of movement and business-like air, and then +turned his gaze to the horses. All were strange to him, and he looked them over +frankly, resting his eyes finally upon a chunky white. Instinctively he knew +that this horse was mean, and he hated mean horses as he hated mean men. +Observing that this one showed his teeth freely at him, the while holding his +small ears almost constantly flat, he measured him for difficulties in the +future, if the association were to continue. Then he turned his eyes back to the +men.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span>As he did so, +out of the silence rode a single horseman. He was mounted upon the sorrel, and +Pat wondered at this. But as the man drew near and Pat saw a blood-smeared, +ghastly face, he wondered still more. For there was something familiar about +this lone rider, and he took a step toward him. Presently he saw him gain the +outer edge of the circle, and then a strange thing happened. He saw the young +man begin to weave in his saddle, saw two of the others suddenly leap for +him–saw them reach him just in time to save him from tumbling limply to +the ground. Then he noted another queer thing. He saw the young man’s left +arm dangle oddly from the shoulder; saw the young man himself grasp it, wincing +with excruciating pain, and saw him turn wide eyes suddenly toward him. Then he +heard the man speak.</p> + +<p>“Look–look him over!” he cried, and his voice was a curious +mixture of distress and restrained excitement. “I–I don’t want +him–him to go back–to go back–hurt–hurt +in–in–”</p> + +<p>And now Pat saw the strangest thing of all. He saw the young man slowly close +his eyes and sink back into the arms of the others as one dead. He saw the +others exchange troubled glances and lay the insensible form down tenderly on +the sand. It was all very unusual, something new in his life; and, not knowing +what else to do, yet somehow feeling that he should do something, be it never so +little, he lowered his head and sounded a trembling nicker into the silence.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span><a id='link_18'></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>AN ENEMY</span></h2> + +<p>There was water in the grove, and the men made camp at the edge of the trees. +“The Doc,” which was what the rangers early had affectionately +nicknamed Stephen, was suffering a compound fracture of the left arm, together +with numerous bruises and scratches about the head and face. He had had a nasty +fall. His horse had stumbled and almost instantly died as the result of the big +cattle-rustler’s shots. The men set and splinted Stephen’s arm as +best they could, and they bandaged his head with rare skill; but it was deemed +advisable for him to remain quiet for a time.</p> + +<p>So Stephen lay listlessly smiling at the bantering of the men, too sick at +heart really to take interest in any living thing. His arm pained him, and his +head ached, while throughout his body he was sore and stiff and well-nigh +incapable of moving. But not once following the first complete collapse did he +let go of himself, although when the men set his arm it seemed that he must. +Somehow he was contented that everything was as it was. True, he was hurt. But +also he had found Pat, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_211'></a>211</span> had recovered the horse for Helen, and the horse +now was within sound of his voice, did he but care to lift it. His physical +hurts would get well, his spiritual hurts never without the recovery of the +horse. And now he had the horse.</p> + +<p>One morning it became apparent that their food-supplies would soon need +replenishing. So it was decided to break camp for the nearest town, a Mexican +settlement some eighty miles to the southwest. Stephen had been walking about +somewhat cheerfully for three or four days, and his condition was such that he +could ride forward slowly without danger to his arm. So they broke camp, +utilizing the sorrel as a pack-horse–there now were two extra saddles and +bridles–and set out, Stephen, of course, mounted upon Pat.</p> + +<p>Once more Pat found himself following an unmarked and desolate trail. Moving +always at a walk now instead of the conventional fox-trot, he found his service, +save for this and one other thing, identical with that under his previous +masters. The single other difference was that instead of irritating silence, +these men unwittingly soothed him with their talk and swift exchange of jokes. +Thus the hours passed, until noon came, when, with his bridle and saddle +removed, and pungent odors of savory cooking tickling his nostrils, he received +the privilege of grazing over the whole desert unhobbled and untethered. But +this, liberal as it seemed, brought him nothing of the nourishment his soul +craved. After an hour or two of lazy wandering, while the men passed <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span> the time at cards, he +was sent forward again along the ever-mysterious trail. And thus he moved, +through the long hot afternoon, the cool and lingering twilight, on to a night +camp where once more he was turned loose with the other horses to glean as best +he might life-giving sustenance from the scant herbage. But it was drearily +monotonous.</p> + +<p>Throughout it all, however, there was one who kept his interest alive. It was +the white horse. In the camp holding himself aloof, as if superciliously +refraining from close contact, on the trail this horse took to revealing his +antagonism. He would stand a short way from him while they grazed, lay back his +ears and whisk his tail, and, whenever the chance came, he would snap viciously +at the other horses. Pat understood the meaning of all this, and held himself +ready to resist attack, yet he simply looked at the horse with a kind of amused +speculation. Nor at any time did he feel grave apprehension. That he did not +take the horse seriously lay in the fact that after drawing near in this fashion +and bristling nastily the white horse would quickly draw away again, steadily +and craftily, and then fall to worrying one of the other horses, usually one of +smaller size that quite obviously feared him.</p> + +<p>There came the time when the white did not confine his threatenings to the +grazing-periods. He became aggressive on the march. Though less free to give +battle here, which was possibly his reason, he would frequently jockey close, +and either <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span> flash +his head around with teeth snapping, or else, as if to make Pat feel +inferiority, would plunge forward to a point immediately in front, and in this +position fling back choking dust or gravel. At such times the round-faced man, +the white’s master, would drag him away mightily, or, if he was not quick +enough, then the sorrel, drowsing along behind on a lead-rope, would +unconsciously offer resistance. But it was all very disagreeable, and Pat, while +finding that it broke up the monotony of the journey, yet at length found +himself also becoming irritated.</p> + +<p>He finally gave way to it. It was his nature to brood over annoyances and +sometimes to heap grains of injustice into mountains of woes. He fell to +thinking of his general lot, his misfortunes, the lack of proper food, the +occasional lack of water, until he became sullen and peevish. The change showed +in sudden starts at unusual sounds which brought sharp protests from his young +master, and then he began to refuse to eat. This was grave, and he knew it. But +he could not or would not help it; he never knew quite which it was. But he did +not eat. Instead of moving about with the other horses, nose to ground, mouthing +the bunch-grass, he would mope by himself well away from the other horses, +standing with head hanging and ears inert, all in motionless silence. As the +water-holes became farther apart, and the grazing worse yet, he did this more +and more, until the white horse, evidently seeing his lack of spirit, became a +source of downright aggravation, frequently <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_214'></a>214</span> taking lightning nips at him. At such times Pat +would lift his head and hold himself erect and vigilant during the +grazing-period, but he brooded, none the less, and as persistently refused to +eat.</p> + +<p>This was not lost upon Stephen or the rangers, neither his refusing to eat +nor the white’s antagonism. They spent hours discussing both. Having found +in Pat none of the regular symptoms of disease, yet aware that something grave +was the matter, the rangers fell to discussing Pat’s condition with much +earnestness, frequently interrupting their arguments on the one subject to +declare that the white horse, provided Pat held out and healed up against his +complaint, would get a fight such as was never before witnessed in the desert. +That they were evenly matched both as to build and strength was recognized; that +Pat was possessed of a reserve that told of finer courage all agreed. Yet in +this last lurked opportunities for argument; and argue they did, sometimes long +into the night, the little man known as the Professor and the rangy individual +with the scrubby beard showing the greatest vehemence. Yet despite all their +arguments, to which Stephen invariably listened in smiling silence, none as yet +had offered good reason for the villainous attitude of the white toward the +peaceful Pat.</p> + +<p>“<i>I</i> know!” suddenly declared the man with the scrubby beard +one evening, after the tin dishes had been cleared away. “It’s +jealousy!” He narrowed his eyes out through the darkness in the direction +of the horses. “Who ever ’u’d believe <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> old Tom out there ’u’d show +jealousy? I see it, though, the first day. You recollect we made a heap of the +black, kind of petting him up some, and Tom, bein’, as he sure is, an +intelligent hoss, I reckon he figured it out that he’d played the game and +been faithful all along, and then to see himself set back that way by a complete +stranger, it jest nachelly made him sore. Same as it would you or me, mebbe, if +we was informed polite and all that from headquarters that they was a new man +comin’ to jine us that was the pure quill whichever way you looked at him. +Old Tom is bein’ et up with jealousy, I’m regretful to +say.”</p> + +<p>“Animiles feels things a heap more’n humans does,” put in +the little man known as the Professor. “But they’re more reserved in +showin’ ’em out. Yit when they do show ’em out, they’re +a lot less polite about it than humans.”</p> + +<p>“Nachelly,” snapped the lean man, glaring savagely across the +fire at the other. “But that ain’t tellin’ us what ails the +black,” he went on, dropping the subject of the white and taking up with +the symptoms of the black, evidently through perverseness. “He’s +solemn and dumpish,” he declared, thoughtfully, “like he might have +distemper. But he ’ain’t got distemper. And his teeth ain’t sharp, +yet he don’t eat at all. And I can’t see anything the matter with +his insides.”</p> + +<p>“Did you look?” inquired the Professor, innocently, but with a +quick wink at Stephen.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I–” began the lean man, only to check himself with an +angry snort. Then he shifted <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_216'></a>216</span> the topic again, reverting to the case of old Tom. +“That white hoss’ll about push that matter to a finish,” he +declared. “See if what I say don’t pan out! Tom he’ll just +about obey that law o’ nature which animals has knowed from long before +the ark, but which us humans is just gettin’ a hold on. He’ll remove +the cause–old Tom will–or get himself removed. He ain’t +nobody’s fool–nor never was!” And he rested his eyes +significantly upon the Professor.</p> + +<p>The Professor was busy, however. He had pulled a deck of cards from his hip +pocket, and now was riffling them with pointed interest. Directly he began to +deal them around, carefully overlooking the lean man as he did so. But the +latter, dropping over upon one elbow, permitted the game to proceed without +offering objection to the oversight, a peculiar one, since he was in the full +glare of the fire.</p> + +<p>That argument was closed.</p> + +<p>But next morning Pat received unexpected attention. His young master +approached him, looped a rope around his neck, and gave the end to the large +man, who mounted the white. Then the lean man bridled and saddled the sorrel for +the young man, who evidently was unable conveniently to do these things with his +one hand. After this he loaded Pat with the extra saddles and bridles, and thus +they set out. It was a not unfavorable change, and Pat, while harboring mixed +emotions, since he now was trailing along behind the white, yet found himself in +a lighter <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span> mood. +Feeling little jealousy of the white, however, he soon forgot the changed +relations, finding in his own position a new viewpoint upon the cavalcade which +was interesting. For now he could survey the whole squad, five horses of varied +size and action, and this, as he studied the individual gait of each, was not +without its pleasure. Also, being, as he was, free from the weight of a man, he +felt an airy lightness that was positively refreshing. And finally, since he was +out of reach of the nagging white, this blessing alone made him grateful. So he +followed along, working yet not working, with a feeling of complete composure +such as had not been his for many a day.</p> + +<p>Still his composure did not last. The novelty wore off toward noon, and he +found himself morose and introspective again. Sounding the depths of his +grievances, he at length took to thinking of the white corral beside the river. +Not in many a day had he thought of the ranch. But he was recalling it now, not +through affection, not because it was home to him, but because, brooding over +his many discomforts in the open, he was suddenly remembering that his life had +not always been this–that he knew actual comfort, knew what it was to have +his wants gratified. And recalling these facts, he naturally recalled that which +had made them possible–the little ranch in the valley. So he let his +thoughts linger there. Faint and elusive at first, those other days became +finally quite vivid, days of expectancy and gratification, days of sugar and +quartered apples, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span> +days of affection and love-talk from his pretty little mistress. And how he +missed them all! How he missed them–even the Mexican hostler and the brown +saddler and the old matronly horse–his mother by adoption! But they were +gone from him now, gone for all time out of his life. Yet though he believed +them gone, he continued to brood on them, to live each day over again in his +thoughts, till the men ahead dismounted suddenly. Then he was glad to turn his +attention to other matters, things close around him. One of these was the coming +of the lean man with a pair of familiar objects in his hands–this after +the noonday meal.</p> + +<p>“Well, my bucky,” he began, turning critical eyes over Pat, +“I been studyin’ your case a heap, and I’ve come to think +I’m old Doctor Sow himself. Your young man here is knocked out of all +possible good,” he went on, as Stephen smilingly approached, “and so +it occurred to me, sir, as how you ain’t sick no more’n I be. What +ails you is you’re an aristocrat–something that’s been knocked +around unusual–what with them rustlers and with us that’s worse than +rustlers–and got yourself all mussed up and unfit! All you need is a +cleanin’–that’s what ails you! You’re just nice +furniture–a piece o’ Sheraton, mebbe–that’s all over +sweepings, and I’m the he-maid that’s going to dust you off. Hold +still, now.”</p> + +<p>So Pat, after taking a step toward Stephen, who now was stroking him +tenderly, held very still, not only under the soothing caress, but under the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span> +operation–for such was the cleaning–since he was gritty beyond +belief. Also, after the operation he felt immeasurably better, and better still +when Stephen led him to a tiny stream and he had relieved his thirst. But that +was not all of joy. Turned loose with the other horses, he fell to grazing +eagerly, actually finding it good, and once lifting a long and shrill nicker in +gratitude for this change in his condition. Nor did his delight stop here. With +camp broken, and his young master, instead of returning him to the lead-rope, +bridling and saddling him awkwardly with one hand, he set out along the trail at +a gait so brisk that it brought a startled exclamation from the young man, who +promptly pulled him down. But though he was forced to keep a slow gait, yet +frequently during the afternoon, conscious of his fresh coat and the sense of +buoyancy it gave him, he flung up his head and nickered loud and joyfully. Also, +with night once more descending, and the stars twinkling in the blue-black +heavens, and the sheen of a rising moon flooding the desert, he moved about +among the other horses with a vigor that was almost insolence, seizing tufts of +grass wherever he saw them, heedless of others’ rights.</p> + +<p>Around the fire sat or sprawled the men. Two of them were industriously +mending, one a shirt, the other a bridle. The Professor and the man with the +scrubby beard were complacently smoking, while Stephen, glad to stretch out +after the day’s ride with an arm that constantly distressed <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span> him, was reclining upon +a blanket, staring into the flames and conjuring up in their leaping tongues +numerous soothing pictures. As he sat there the man with the beard suddenly +addressed him.</p> + +<p>“Doc,” he drawled, removing his pipe from between whiskers that +glinted in the light of the fire, “now that you’ve got him, what are +you thinking of doing with that horse?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll take him back,” replied Stephen, pleasantly.</p> + +<p>The other was silent. “Shore!” he rejoined, after a moment. +“But take him back where?”</p> + +<p>“Where he belongs.”</p> + +<p>There was further silence. “Excuse me!” finally exclaimed the +other. “I was thinking as mebbe you’d take him whence he +came.”</p> + +<p>Stephen sat erect and looked at the other. He was smoking again +complacently.</p> + +<p>“Whence come you?” asked Stephen, after a time.</p> + +<p>The other slowly removed his pipe. Then he told him. Then Stephen spoke. And +then the man rose stiffly, crossed solemnly to him and shook hands with him +cordially.</p> + +<p>“I knowed you was white the fust day I see you,” he declared. +Then he waved a vague hand over the others. “They’ve all–all +of ’em–traveled that way. I was raised–”</p> + +<p>A sudden shrill scream out in the darkness interrupted him. It was a horse. +The cry stirred the entire camp. The Professor arose, sauntered out, whistling, +whirled, and called back sharply. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_221'></a>221</span> The others ran toward him; the large man struck a +match. The white horse was limping on three legs. They bent over and examined +the fourth. The match went out. All straightened up. As they did so Pat sounded +a shrill nicker.</p> + +<p>“Busted!” exclaimed the large man, quietly. “Well, +I’m a goat! That black horse has kicked old Tom clear over the divide. +I–I’m clean done! Quick as lightning, too! No preambles; no +circumlocutions; no nothing. Just put it to him. Good Lord!” Then he +regretfully drew a revolver. “I reckon you boys better stand +back.”</p> + +<p>A shot broke the quiet, and the desert shivered and was still again. The +white horse sank to the ground. Stephen walked to Pat, struck a match, and +looked him over critically. Pat was torn and bleeding in two places along the +neck, but otherwise he needed no attention. Stephen patted him thoughtfully, +gratefully, fighting the horror of what might have been had this splendid horse +weakened in the crisis. No wonder the little girl in the valley worshiped +him.</p> + +<p>But he said nothing. After a time he returned to the fire and sat down among +a very sober group of men. Presently the man with the scrubby beard broke the +quiet. His voice sounded hollow and distressed.</p> + +<p>“I knowed it,” he declared. “Though I thought old Tom +’u’d done better.” He began to roll a cigarette. “Pore old +Tom! He’s killed; he’s dead–dead and gone.” With the +cigarette made, he snatched a brand from the fire and lighted <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span> it. He fell to smoking +in thoughtful silence, in his eyes a look of unutterable sadness.</p> + +<p>The Professor bestirred himself. “Tell me,” he asked, lifting his +gaze to the heavens reflectively–“tell me, does any of you believe +that horses–any animiles–has souls?”</p> + +<p>The lean man glanced at him. His eyes now had the look of one anxious to +express his views, but cautiously refused to be baited. Finally he made +answer.</p> + +<p>“If you’re askin’ my opinion,” he said, +“I’ll tell you that I know they have.” He was silent. “I +know that animals has the same thing we’ve got,” he +continued–“that thing we call the soul–but they’ve got +it in smaller proportions, so to speak. It’s easy as falling off a bucking +bronc. Take old Tom out there. Take that Lady horse that got killed two years +ago by rustlers–take any horse, any dumb animal–and I’ll show +you in fifteen different ways that they’ve got souls.”</p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p>The lean man glared. “Now ‘how’!” he snapped. “You +give me a mortal pang. Why don’t you never use your eyes once like other +and more decent folks? Get the habit. You’ll see there ain’t any +difference between animals and humans, only speech, and they’ve got +that!”</p> + +<p>The large man smiled. “Let’s have it, Bob,” he invited. +“Where’ll we look for it first?”</p> + +<p>The lean man showed an impatience born of contempt. “Well,” he +began, tossing away his cigarette, “in desires, first, then in their power +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223'></a>223</span> to appreciate, +and, finally, in their sense of the worth of things. They have that, and +don’t you think they hain’t. But they’ve got the others, too. +Animals like to eat and drink and play, don’t they? You know that! And +they understand when you’re good to ’em and when you’re cussed +mean. You know that. And they know death when they see it, take it from me, +because they’re as sensitive to loss of motion, or breathing, or animal +heat, as us humans–more so. They feel pain, for instance, more’n we +do, because, lackin’ one of the five–or six, if you +like–senses, their other senses is keyed up higher’n our’n.”</p> + +<p>The Professor looked belligerent. “Get particular!” he +demanded.</p> + +<p>“I won’t get particular,” snapped the other. “S’pose +you wrastle it out for yourself–same as us humans.” Evidently he was +still bitter against this man. “That Lady horse o’ mine,” he +went on, his eyes twinkling, addressing himself to the others, “she had it +all sized about right. She used to say to me, when I’d come close to her +in the morning: ‘Well, old sock,’ she’d say, throwin’ her old +ears forward, ‘how are you this mornin’?–You know,’ +she’d declare, ‘I kind o’ like you because you understand me.’ +Then she’d about wipe her nose on me and go on. ‘Wonder why it is that so +many of you don’t! It’s easy enough, our language,’ +she’d p’int out, ‘but most o’ you two-legged critters +don’t seem to get us. It’s right funny! You appear to get ’most +everything else–houses, and land, and playin’-cards, and <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span> sich. But you +don’t never seem to get us–that is, most o’ you! Why, +’tain’t nothin’ but sign language, neither–same as Injuns +talkin’ to whites. But I reckon you’re idiots, most o’ you, +and blind, you hairless animals, wearin’ stuff stole offen sheep, and your +ugly white faces mostly smooth. You got the idee we don’t know +nothin’–pity us, I s’pose, because we can’t understand you. +Lawzee! We understand you, all right. It’s you ’at don’t understand +us. And that’s the hull trouble. You think we’re just a lump +o’ common dirt, with a little tincture o’ movement added, just +enough so as we can run and drag your loads around for you. Wisht you could +’a’ heard me and old Tom last night, after you’d all turned +in, talkin’ on the subject o’ keepin’ well and strong and +serene o’ mind. Sign language? Some. But what of it, old whiskers? +Don’t every deef-and-dumb party get along with few sounds and plenty of +signs? You humans give me mortal distress!’</p> + +<p>“And so on,” concluded this lover of animals. “Thus Lady +horse used to talk to me every mornin’, tryin’ to make me see things +some little clearer. And that’s all animals–if you happen to know +the ‘try me’ on their little old middle chamber work.” He fell +silent.</p> + +<p>The others said nothing. Each sat smoking reflectively, gazing into the dying +flames, until one arose and prepared to turn in. Stephen was the last except the +Professor and the man with the scrubby beard. And finally the Professor <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span> gained his feet and, +with a glance at the last figure remaining at the fire, took off his boots and +rolled up in his blanket. For a long moment he stared curiously at the other +bowed in thought.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t you goin’ to turn in?” he finally inquired. +“You ain’t et up by nothin’, be you?”</p> + +<p>The lean man slowly lifted his head. “I was thinkin’,” he +said, half to himself, “of a–a kind of horse’s prayer I once +see in a harness-shop in Albuquerque.”</p> + +<p>The other twisted himself under his blanket. “How did it go?” he +asked, encouragingly. “Let’s all have it!”</p> + +<p>The lean man arose. “‘To thee, my master,’ it started off,” +he began, moving slowly toward his blanket. Suddenly he paused. “I–I +don’t just seem to remember it all,” he said, and sat down and +pulled off one of his boots. He held it in his hands absently.</p> + +<p>The Professor urged him on. “Let her come,” he said, his face now +hidden in the folds of his covering. “Shoot it–let’s +hear.”</p> + +<p>“‘To thee, my master, I offer my prayer,’” presently +continued the other, turning reflective eyes toward the flickering coals. +“‘Feed me, water me, care for me, and, when the–the day’s work +is done, provide me with shelter and a clean, dry bed, and, when you can, a +stall wide enough for me to lie down in in comfort. Always be kind to me. Talk +to me–your voice often means as much to me as the reins. Pet me sometimes, +that I may serve you the more gladly and know <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_226'></a>226</span> that my services are appreciated, and that I may +learn to love you. Do not jerk the reins, and do not whip me when going up-hill. +And when I don’t understand you, what you want, do not strike or beat or +kick me, but give me a chance to understand you. And if I continue to fail to +understand, see if something is not wrong with my harness or +feet.’”</p> + +<p>The Professor’s blanket stirred. “Go on!” he yelled. +“Sounds all right. Go ahead! Is that all?”</p> + +<p>“I disremember the rest,” replied the other. “Let’s +see!” He was silent. “No,” he finally blurted out, “I +can’t get it. It says something about overloading, and a-hitching where +water don’t drop on him, and–Oh yes! ‘I can’t tell you when +I’m thirsty,’ it goes on, ‘so give me cool, clean water often. Never +put a frosty bit in my mouth; first warm it by holdin’ it a moment in your +hands. And, remember, I try to carry you and your burdens without a murmur, and +I wait patiently for you long hours of the day and night. Without power to +choose my shoes or path, I sometimes stumble and fall, but I stand always in +readiness at any moment to lose my life in your service. And this is important, +and, finally, O my master! when my useful strength is gone do not turn me out to +starve, or sell me to some cruel owner to be slowly tortured and starved to +death; but do thou, my master, take my life in the kindest way, and your God +will reward you here and hereafter. You will not consider me <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span> irreverent, I know, if I +ask all this in the name of Him Who was born in a stable.’”</p> + +<p>The Professor’s blanket stirred again. “Go on,” he demanded +in muffled tones. “Is that all?”</p> + +<p>The lean man slipped off his second boot. “No,” he replied, +quietly, “that ain’t all.”</p> + +<p>“Well, go ahead. It’s good. That horse must ’a’ been +a city horse; but go on!”</p> + +<p>“Only one more word, anyway,” was the rejoinder. He was still +holding his boot.</p> + +<p>“What is it?”</p> + +<p>“Why”–the voice was solemn–“it’s +‘Amen.’”</p> + +<p>“Aw, shucks!” came from the depths of the blanket.</p> + +<p>The lean man turned his head. “Say, you!” he rasped, +belligerently.</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>For answer the boot sailed across the camp.</p> + +<p>The Professor popped his head out of the blanket, drew it back suddenly, +popped it out again, all strongly suggestive of a turtle.</p> + +<p>There was a hoarse laugh, then silence, but none of those men forgot the +Prayer of the Horse.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span><a id='link_19'></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /><span class='h2fs'>ANOTHER CHANGE OF MASTERS</span></h2> + +<p>The next morning Pat had a change from the tedium of the desert. With the +others he struck into a narrow canyon that led out to a beaten trail upon a +rolling mesa. The trail wound diagonally across the mesa from the south and lost +itself in snake-like twistings among hills to the north. Guided to the right +into this trail, Pat found himself, a little before noon, in a tiny Mexican +settlement. It was a squat hamlet, nestling comfortably among the hills, made up +of a few adobes, a lone well, and a general store. The store was at the far end, +and toward this his young master directed him.</p> + +<p>As they rode on Pat noticed a queer commotion. Here and there a door closed +violently, only to open again cautiously as they drew opposite, revealing +sometimes two, sometimes three, sometimes five pairs of black eyes, all ranged +timidly one pair over another in the opening. Dogs skulked before their +approach, snarling in strange savagery, while whole flocks of chickens, ruffling +in dusty hollows, took frantically to wing at their coming, fleeing before them +in unwonted <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span> +disorder. And finally, as they moved past the well, a half-grown boy, only +partly dressed, hurtled out of the side door of one house, raced across a yard +to the front door of another house, and slammed the door shut behind him in a +panic.</p> + +<p>It was all very strange, and it made a deep impression upon him. Also it +evidently impressed the men, for as they drew rein in front of the store, with +its dust-dry shelves and haunting silence, all asked quick questions of the +proprietor, a little wizened, gimlet-eyed Mexican who was leaning in the +doorway. After glancing over their accoutrements with a nod of understanding, he +answered, explaining the reason for the agitation.</p> + +<p>It was all the result of a raid. Three days before a band of marauders had +swept down from the north, ransacked pigstys and chicken-coops and corrals, and +galloped off madly to the south. Yes, they had plundered the store also. Indian +renegades–yes. He could not say from what reservation. Yes, they were +armed, and in warpaint, and riding good horses–all of them. No, he could +not say–about thirty in the band, perhaps. He–What? Yes, he had +alfalfa and, if they wished, other things–beans and rice and canned goods. +No, the renegades had not wholly cleaned out the store. Yes, he had matches. No, +they had not– What? <i>Vino?</i> To be sure he had <i>Vino</i>! He would +get–how many bottles?–right away! It was in the cellar, where he +kept it cool, and reasonably safe from all marauders–including <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> himself. With this +slight witticism he disappeared into the store.</p> + +<p>The men dismounted. They sat down upon the porch, and one of them, the large +man, removed his hat, produced a blue bandana, and fell to mopping his red face. +The day was warm, and the settlement, lying low under surrounding peaks, +received none of the outside breezes. Also, it was inert now, wrapped in the +quiet of a frightened people. There was no movement anywhere save that of +ruffling hens in the dust of the trail, and the nearer switching of +horses’ tails. Once this stillness was broken. Among the houses somewhere +rose feminine lamentations, wailing sobs, the outburst cutting the quiet with a +sharpness that caused the men to turn grave eyes in its direction. And now the +keeper of the store reappeared, bearing three bottles of wine in his arms, and +numerous supplies, which the men accepted and paid for. Then all led their +horses back to the well, which was in a little clearing, and there prepared to +make camp, throwing off saddle-bags and accoutrements and building a fire while +they planned a real meal.</p> + +<p>Pat was enjoying all this. The settlement had a faintly familiar look, and he +half expected to see a swarthy Mexican, whip in hand, approach him with abusive +tongue. Also, after weeks of far horizons and unending sweeps of desert, he +found in this nearness of detail pleasurable relief. It was good to see +something upright again without straining across miles of desolation, even <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> as it was good to see +adobes once more, with windows and doors, and smoke curling up out of chimneys. +He felt a deep sense of security, of coziness, which he had been fast losing on +the broad reaches, together with his sight for short distances. For his eyes had +become affected since leaving the white corral beside the river, although with +this he was aware of a peculiar gain. His sense of hearing now was most acute, +and he could hear the least faint sounds–sounds which, before his taking +to the open, he could not have heard. So he was enjoying it all, feeling real +comfort, a kind of fitness, as if he belonged here and would better remain here +for ever. Then, with a generous supply of alfalfa tossed to him, as to the other +horses, he became convinced that he should remain in this little settlement for +all time.</p> + +<p>Along in the afternoon the storekeeper, accompanied by a native woman, who +was tear-stained and weeping, crossed the settlement. At the moment the men, +lounging about on blankets, were discussing ways and means for Stephen. He need +not continue with them now, they informed him, unless he wanted to. Arrangements +could be made here to get him to a railroad in some kind of vehicle, leading Pat +behind. But it was up to him. They weren’t hurrying him away, by any +means, yet it sure was up to him to get proper treatment for his arm, which +showed slow signs of recovery.</p> + +<p>Stephen was considering this when the two <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_232'></a>232</span> Mexicans approached. The proprietor of the store +started to explain, when the little woman draped in a black mantilla interrupted +him with further sobbing and a pointing finger–pointing back across the +settlement.</p> + +<p>“<i>Caballeros</i>,” she began, “you coom please wit’ +me, I–I haf show you soomt’ing.” Then again she burst into +weeping.</p> + +<p>Startled, Stephen arose, and the others gained their feet. They set out +across the settlement. They struck between some adobe houses, crossed some back +yards, dodged under clothes-lines, and found themselves in a tiny graveyard. The +woman brought them to a stop before a fresh mound of earth. Here she knelt in +another outburst of tears, while the gimlet-eyed storekeeper explained.</p> + +<p>It was a little boy twelve years old. The marauders had stolen his pig. He +had bitterly denounced them, and one–evidently the leader–had shot +him. It was too bad! But it was not all. In one of the houses, the large house +they had passed in coming here, lay an old man, seventy-eight years of age, +dying from a rifle-shot. Yes, the renegade Indians had shot him also. What had +he done? He had defended his chickens against theft. It was too bad! It was all +too bad! Could not there something be done? To live in peace, to live in strict +accord with all known laws, such was the aim and such had been the conduct of +these people. And then to have a band of cutthroats, murderers, thieves, descend +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span> upon their peace +and quiet in this fashion! It was all too bad!</p> + +<p>The rangers turned away from the scene. All save the woman set out across the +settlement, returning to the camp in silence. Seated once more, they fell to +discussing this situation. And discussing the tragedy, they reverted to Stephen +and his own troubles, light in comparison. They themselves, they acknowledged, +had their work all cut out for them. It was what they got their money for. But +there was hardly any use, they pointed out, in Stephen’s accompanying them +on this mission. Yet he could go if he wanted to. What did he say?</p> + +<p>And Stephen, gazing off thoughtfully toward the tiny mound of fresh earth, +and seeing the little woman prostrated with grief upon the grave, knew that +Helen, herself bitter with loss, and no doubt needing Pat as much almost as this +woman needed her own lost one, would have him do what he wanted to do. And what +he wanted to do, felt as if he must do, was to accompany these men, go with +them, disabled though he was, and help as best he could to bring down +retribution upon the renegades. And he made known his wishes to the others, +finally, expressing them with a note of determination.</p> + +<p>As they bridled and saddled, leaving all equipment not actually required, the +proprietor of the store, his small eyes eager, stood close and frequently +repeated his opinion that murder in even more gruesome form had been committed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> to the north. Then +they set out, following the direction taken by the Indians, riding briskly, +keyed up to energy through hope of encounter, although Stephen suffered not a +little from the jolting of his arm. Dropping down from the hills, they swung out +upon the mesa, and thence made into the south along a winding trail. Ordinarily +they would have lingered to accept the strained hospitality of the settlement. +But this was duty, duty large and grave, and, conscious of it all, they pressed +forward in silence. The renegades’ tracks stood out clearly, and the +rangers noted that some of the horses were shod, others only half shod, while +the greater number were without shoes at all. This told of the marauders’ +nondescript collection of mounts, and also acquainted them with the fact that +many of the animals had been stolen. On through the afternoon they rode, making +but little gain, since the tracks became no fresher. When darkness fell, though +still in the open without protection of any kind save that offered by a slight +rise of ground, they dismounted and prepared to make camp.</p> + +<p>Throughout the afternoon Pat had felt something of the grim nature of this +business. This not only because of the severe crowding which he had +endured–though that had told him much–but because of the unwonted +silence upon the men. So he had held himself keenly to the stride, rather liking +its vigor after long days of walking, finding himself especially fit to meet it +after his recent change of food. And although the sun <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span> had been swelteringly hot, yet the +desert had been swept with counteracting breezes, and, with night finally +descending, he had felt more than ever his fine mettle, and now, even though his +master was painfully dismounting, he felt fit to run his legs off at the least +suggestion.</p> + +<p>This fitness remained with him. When his young master turned him loose at the +end of a generous tether, he stepped eagerly away from the firelight and out +into the light of a rising moon, not to graze, for he felt no desire to graze, +having eaten his fill and more at noon, but to give vent to his high spirits in +unusual rolling in the sands. This he quickly proceeded to do, kicking and +thrashing about, and holding to it long after the men about the fire had ceased +to come and go in preparing their meal, long after they had seated themselves in +the cheerful glow, smoking and talking as was their habit.</p> + +<p>The Professor noticed it. He looked at the man with the beard pointedly. +“That Pat hoss he’s workin’ up another job o’ +cleanin’ for you,” he observed. “Seemed in an awful hurry, +too,” he added, then dropped his eyes innocently.</p> + +<p>The other was punching new holes in his belt with an unwieldy jack-knife. He +suddenly gave off twisting the point of the knife against the leather and lifted +it menacingly in the direction of his tormentor.</p> + +<p>“Look-a-here, Professor,” he retorted, “I ain’t +feelin’ any too pert right now, and I’ll take a hop out o’ you +if you don’t shet up!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span>The Professor +looked grieved. “What’s the matter of you?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“Never you mind!” The knife went back to the leather again. +“Let that horse roll if he wants to! It ain’t any skin off your +hands!”</p> + +<p>Which was the key-note of all assembled save the Professor. All except him +appeared tense and nervous and in no way inclined to joke. For a time after the +lean man’s rebuke they engaged in casual talk, then one after another they +drew off their boots and rolled up in their blankets. All but Stephen. His arm +was throbbing with unusual pain. It was still in splints, and still bandaged in +a sling around his neck, and since it always hurt him to change positions, he +remained seated beside the fire, wrapped in sober thought. Outside, in the +green-white light of the moon, he heard the horses one by one sink to rest. +Around him the desert, gripped in death-stillness, pressed close, while overhead +the star-sprinkled dome of heaven, unclouded, arched in all its wonted +glittering majesty. A long time he sat there, keenly alive to these things, yet +thinking strange thoughts, thoughts of his loneliness, and what might have been, +and where he might have been, had he never met the girl. These were new +thoughts, and he presently arose to rid himself of them and turned in, and soon +was in a doze.</p> + +<p>Some time later, he did not know how much later, he was aroused by a sound as +of distant thunder. But as he lifted his head the sound disappeared. Yet when he +dropped his head back <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_237'></a>237</span> again he heard it. He pressed his left ear close to +earth. The sound grew louder and seemed to come nearer. Again he lifted his +head. As before, he could hear nothing save the snoring of the large man and the +dream-twitching of the Professor. He gazed about him. The camp was still. He +peered outside in the moonlight. The horses were all down–at rest. At +length he dropped back once more, closed his eyes sleepily, and soon dozed a +second time.</p> + +<p>But again he was aroused. He whipped up his head. The sound was thundering in +his ears. He heard trampling hoofs–many hoofs–immediately outside. +He leaped to his feet. He saw horsemen–Indians–the +renegades–crowding past, riding frantically to the north. He called +sharply to the others, who were already waking and leaping to their feet. He +turned to the horses. They were all there, standing now, alert and tense. +Wheeling, he stared after the Indians. They were speeding away like the wind, +close huddled, fleeing in a panic. He watched them, dazed, saw them ascend a +rise, become a vacillating speck in the moonlight, and drop from view in a +hollow beyond the rise. He turned to the men. All stood in mute helplessness, +only half comprehending. He opened his mouth to speak, but as he did so there +came a sudden interruption.</p> + +<p>It was a bugle-call, rollicking across the desert, crashing into the +death-like hush which had settled upon the camp. He turned his eyes toward the +sound–to the south. Over a giant sand-dune, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span> riding grouped, with one or two in the +lead, swept a company of cavalrymen. Down the slope they galloped, moonlight +playing freely upon them, bringing out every detail–the glint of arms, the +movement of hat-brims, the lift and fall of elbows–pounding straight for +the camp. Another blast of the bugle, crisp and metallic, and they swerved; they +drew near, nearer still, came close on the right, and swept past in a whirlwind +of sounds, thundering hoofs, cursing men, slamming carbines, creaking saddles, +snorting horses. So they swept on into the north, pushing, crowding, jostling, +throwing back flying gravel, odors of sweat, swirling dust-clouds. They mounted +rapidly over the rise, and became, as the pursued, vacillating specks, and then +disappeared in the hollow beyond.</p> + +<p>Stephen recovered himself. He swept his eyes again over the horses. He saw a +change among them. Three were calm, but not the other two. Both of them were +weaving faintly, and, even as he sprang to them, one sank slowly to the ground. +Wondering, dazed, gripped in apprehension, he bent over it. The horse was a +stranger, and it was gasping its last breath. Dismayed, he turned to the other. +This horse also was a strange horse, and it was white with foam and panting, +also run to death. Astonished, cold with apprehension, he looked for Pat. But +neither Pat nor the sorrel was to be seen. Then the truth overwhelmed him. The +renegades, seeing fresh horses here, had made a swift change. Pat was gone!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span>For one tense +moment he stood spellbound. Then he sprang into action. He dressed as best he +could, called to the others to bridle and saddle a horse, and leaped into the +saddle. His whole body rebelled at the movement. But he set his jaw grimly, and, +clutching at his bandaged arm, yet keeping his grip on the reins, he spurred +frantically after the cavalry. As he dashed away he shouted back his +purpose.</p> + +<p>But the men, standing with wide eyes turned after him, heard only the +end:</p> + +<p>“I’ll get him in spite of hell!”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span><a id='link_20'></a>CHAPTER XX<br /><span class='h2fs'>FIDELITY</span></h2> + +<p>Meantime Pat was running at top speed across the desert. Yet he was trying to +understand this strange call to duty. Roused from fitful slumber by trampling +hoofs, he had felt an excited hand jerking him to his feet, and after that a +slender rope looped round his lower jaw. Then he had been urged, with a +wriggling form on his bare back, frantic heels drumming his sides, and a strange +voice impelling him onward past a surging crowd of horsemen, still only half +awake, out into the open. When he was well in the fore, he had found himself +crowded to his utmost–over sand-dune, into arroyo, across the +level–around him thundering hoofs, panting horses, silent men, all +speeding forward in the glorious moonlight. It was a strange awakening, yet he +had not entertained thoughts of rebellion, despite the fact that he had not +liked the flaying rope, the soft digging heels, the absence of bridle and +saddle. It was strange; it was not right. None of it had checked up with any +item of his experience. Yet, oddly enough, he had not rebelled.</p> + +<p>Nor was he harboring thoughts of rebellion now. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span> Racing onward, smarting with each swing +of the lash, he found himself somehow interested solely in holding his own with +the other horses. Suddenly, alert to their movements, he saw a cleft open in +their surging ranks, made by the fall of an exhausted horse. Yet the others did +not stop. They galloped on, unheeding, though he himself was jerked up. Then +followed a swift exchange of words, and then the unhorsed man mounted behind +Pat’s new master. Carrying a double load now, Pat nevertheless dashed +ahead at his former speed, stumbling with his first steps, but soon regaining +his stride and overtaking the others. And though it cost him straining effort, +he felt rewarded for his pains when one of the men uttered a grunt which he +interpreted as approval. But it was all very strange.</p> + +<p>A canyon loomed up on his left. He had hardly seen the black opening when he +was swung toward it. He plunged forward with the other horses, and was the first +to enter the canyon’s yawning mouth. Between its high walls, however, he +found himself troubled by black shadows. Many of them reached across his path +like projections of rock, and more than once he faltered in his stride. But +after passing through two or three in safety he came at length to understand +them and so returned to his wonted self-possession.</p> + +<p>But he was laboring heavily now. His heart was jumping and pounding, his +breath coming in gasps, but he held to the trail, moving ever deeper into the +hills, until he burst into a basin out of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_242'></a>242</span> which to the right led a narrow canyon. Then he +slowed down and, turning into the canyon, which wound and twisted due north and +south in the bright moonlight, he continued at a slower pace. But his heart no +longer was in the task. The weight on his back seemed heavier; there was a +painful swelling of his ankles. He knew the reason for this pain. It had come +from unwonted contact with hard surfaces and frequent stepping on loose stones +in this strange haste with a strange people in the hills. Yet he kept on, +growing steadily more weary, yet with pride ever to the fore, until a faint +light began to streak the overhead sky, stealing cautiously down the ragged +walls of the canyon. Then he found himself pulled into a walk.</p> + +<p>He was facing a narrow defile that wound up among the overhanging crags. Glad +of the privilege of resting, for a walk was a rest with him now, he set forward +into the uninviting pass. Up and up he clambered, crowding narrowly past +boulders, rounding on slender ledges, up and ever up. As he ascended he saw +gray-white vales below, felt the stimulus of a rarer air, and at last found his +heart fluttering unpleasantly in the higher altitude. Yet he held grimly to his +task, and, when broad daylight was streaming full upon him, he found himself on +a wide shelf of rock, a ledge falling sheer on one side to unseen depths, +towering on the other to awe-inspiring heights. Here he came to a halt. And +then, so tired was he, so faint with exhaustion, so racked of body and spirit, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span> that he sank upon +the cool rock even before the men could clear themselves from him, and lay there +on his side, his eyes closed, his lungs greedily sucking air.</p> + +<p>The glare of full daylight aroused him. Regaining his feet, he stared about +him. He saw many strange-looking men, and near them many dirty and bedraggled +horses. He turned his eyes outward from the ledge. He saw around him bristling +peaks, and below them, far below, a trailing canyon, winding in and out among +hills toward the rising sun, and terminating in a giant V, beyond which, a +connecting thread between its sloping sides, lay an expanse of rolling mesa. It +was far from him, however–very, very far–and he grew dizzy at the +view, finding himself more and more unnerved by the height. At length he turned +away and swept his eyes again over the horses, where he was glad to find the +rangy sorrel. Then he turned back to the men, some of whom were standing, others +squatting, but all in moody silence.</p> + +<p>As he looked he grew aware that a pair of dark eyes were fixed upon him. He +stared back, noting the man’s long hair and painted features and the +familiar glow of admiration in his eyes. Believing him to be his new master, he +continued to regard him soberly until the man, with a grunt and a grimace, rose +and approached him. Pat stood very still under a rigid examination. The man +rubbed his ankles, turned up his hoofs, looked at his teeth; and at the +conclusion of all this Pat felt <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_244'></a>244</span> that he had met with approval. Also, he realized +that he rather approved of the man. Then came a volley of sounds he did not +understand, and he found himself touched with grave apprehension. But not for +long. The man led him across the ledge to a tiny stream trickling down the +rocks, walking with a quiet dignity he long since had learned to connect with +kindliness. This and the fact that he led him to water determined his +attitude.</p> + +<p>Toward noon, as he was brooding over hunger pangs, he was startled by excited +gutturals among the men. Gazing, he saw one of the men standing on the edge of +the shelf, pointing out through the long canyon. With the others, Pat turned his +eyes that way. Between the distant V dotting the mesa beyond rode a body of +horsemen. They were not more than specks to his eyes, proceeding slowly, so +slowly, in fact, that while he could see they were moving he yet could not see +them move as they crawled across the span between the canyon’s mouth. +Interested, gripped in the contagion of the excitement round him, he kept his +eyes upon the distant specks until the sun had changed to another angle. But +even after this lapse of time, so distant were the horsemen, so wide the +canyon’s mouth, they had traveled only half-way across the span. Yet he +continued to watch, wondering at the nervousness around him, conscious of +steadily increasing heat upon him, until the last of the slow-moving specks, +absorbed one by one by the canyon’s wall, disappeared <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span> from view. Then he turned his eyes +elsewhere.</p> + +<p>The men also turned away, but continued their excited talk. But even they +after a time relapsed into silence. What it was all about Pat did not know. He +knew it was something very serious, and suddenly fear came to him. He saw some +of the men lie down as if to sleep, and he feared that they intended to remain +here for ever, in this place absolutely destitute of herbage. But after a time, +made sluggish by the attitude of the men, he himself attempted to drowse. But +the heat pulsating up off the rocks discouraged him, and he soon abandoned the +attempt, standing motionless in the hot sun.</p> + +<p>A change came over him. He took to brooding over his many +discomforts–hunger pangs, loss of sleep, bothersome flies, the pain of his +swollen ankles. As the day advanced his ankles swelled more, and grew worse, the +flies became more troublesome, and his inner gnawings more pronounced. So the +time went on and he brooded through the still watches of the afternoon, through +the soft stirrings of evening, on into night again. With the coming of night +light breezes rose from the spaces below to spur his fevered body into something +of its wonted vigor. And the night brought also preparations among the men to +journey on. This he welcomed, even more than the cooling zephyrs.</p> + +<p>There was some delay. His master entered upon a dispute with the horseless +man. The <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span> voices +became excited and rose to vehement heights. But presently they subsided when +Pat himself, anxious to be active, sounded a note of protest. Yet the argument +proved to his benefit. Instead of mounting him behind his master, the odd man +swung up behind another man on the sorrel. Then he was permitted to move +forward, and as he approached the narrow defile he sounded another nicker, now +of gratification.</p> + +<p>The pass dropped almost sheer in places. As he descended, more than once he +was compelled to slide on stiffened legs. In this at first he felt ecstatic +danger thrills. But only at first. Soon he wearied of it, and he was glad when +he struck the bottom, where, after being guided out of shadow and into broad +moonlight, he found himself moving to the west in a deep canyon. With the other +horses he burst into a canter, and continued at a canter hour after hour, +following the winding and twisting canyon until daylight, with its shadows +creeping away before him, revealed to his tired eyes a stretch of mesa ahead, +dotted with inviting clumps of bunch-grass. Then of his own volition he came to +a stop and fell to grazing. Soon all the horses were standing with mouths to +earth, feeding eagerly.</p> + +<p>The men, sitting for a time in quiet conversation, finally dismounted, +laughing now and then, and casting amused glances toward the black horse.</p> + +<p>Soon they mounted again to take the trail. Instead of riding with the other +on the sorrel, the odd man swung up on Pat’s back behind his <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span> master. But as Pat no +longer suffered from hunger, he complacently accepted the return of the double +load. Then all moved forward. Pat jogged out of the canyon, turning to the right +on the desert, and moved rapidly north in the shadow of the hills. He held to +his stride, and toward noon, rounding a giant ridge projecting into the desert +from the hills, he saw ahead on his right, perhaps two miles distant across a +basin, the mouth of another canyon. Evidently his master saw it also, and +obviously it contained danger, for he jerked Pat down to a walk. Almost +instantly he knew that the danger was real, for the man, sounding a sharp +command to the others, brought him to a full stop. Then followed an excited +discussion, and, when it ended, Pat, gripped in vague uneasiness, found himself +urged forward at top speed. Yet in a dim way he knew what was wanted of him. He +flung himself into a long stride and dashed across the wide basin, across the +mouth of the canyon, into the shadow of the hills again. Breathless, he +slackened his pace with thirty excited horses around him, mad swirling clouds of +dust all about, and before him the oppressive stillness of the desert. They were +safely past the danger zone.</p> + +<p>He pressed on at a slow canter. Ahead the mesa revealed numerous sand-dunes, +large and small, rising into the monotonous skyline. Plunging among them, he +mounted some easily, others he skirted as easily, and once, to avoid an +unusually large one, he dropped down into the bed of an <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span> arroyo, traveled along its dry course, +and then clambered up on the desert. But it was wearying work, and, becoming +ever more aware of his double load, he began to chafe with dissatisfaction. Yet +he held to his gait, hopeful of better things–he was always hopeful of +better things now–until he reached another dune, larger than any as yet +encountered, when once more he broke out of his stride to circle its bottom. As +he did so, of his own volition he checked himself. Dead ahead he saw horses +scattered about, and beyond the horses, rising limply in the noon haze, a thin +column of smoke. Also, he felt both his riders stiffen. Then on the midday hush +rose the crack of firearms from the direction of the camp.</p> + +<p>His master lifted a shrill voice. He felt a mighty pull at his head. He swung +around like a flash. Then came the flaying of a rope and frantic urging of +heels. He plunged among the surging horses, dancing and whirling excitedly, and +out into the open beyond. He set his teeth grimly, and raced headlong to the +south, galloping furiously, tearing blindly over the desert. He headed straight +for the distant basin, straight for the mouth of the canyon, hurtling forward, +struggling mightily under his double load. He did not know it, but he was +speeding into a tragic crisis.</p> + +<p>The others overtook him. They were carrying but single loads. But they did +not pass him. He saw to that. He burst forward into even greater speed, clung to +it grimly, forged into a position well in the lead. And he held this +place–around <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span> +him frenzied horses, frantic riders; behind him, to the distant rear, shot after +shot echoing over the desert; before him the baking sands, shimmering +heat-waves, sullen and silent. He raced on, swinging up over dunes, dropping +into hollows, speeding across flats, mounting over dunes again, on and on toward +the basin and the mouth of the canyon–and protection.</p> + +<p>But again disaster.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, out of the canyon poured the cheerful notes of a bugle. On the +vibrant wings of the echoes, streaming into the basin from the canyon, swept a +body of flying horsemen. Instantly he checked himself. Then his master sounded a +shrill outcry, swung his head around violently, and lashed him forward again. He +hurtled headlong, dashing toward the distant ridge, the peninsula jutting out +into the desert. Grimly he flung out along this new course. But he kept his eyes +to the left. He saw the horsemen there also swerve, saw them spread out like a +fan, and felt his interest kindle joyously. For this was a race! It was a race +for that ridge! And he must win! He must do this thing, for instinctively he +knew that beyond it lay safety. There he could flee to some haven, while cut off +from it, cut off by these steady-riding men on his left, he must submit to +wretched defeat. So he strained himself harder and burst into fresh speed, +finding himself surprised that he could. In the thrill of it he forgot his +double load, forgot the close-pressing horses, forgot irritating dust. On he +galloped, racing forward with <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_250'></a>250</span> machine-like evenness–on his left the +paralleling horsemen, to his rear yelling and shooting, on his right his own men +and horses, and for them he felt he must do big things.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the shooting in his rear ceased. Evidently these men had received +some warning from the riders on his left. Then he awoke to another truth. The +horsemen on his left were gaining. It troubled him, and he cast measuring eyes +to the front. He saw that he was pursuing a shorter line to the ridge; he +believed he still could reach it first. So again he strained on, whipping his +legs into movement till they seemed about to snap. But the effort hurt him and +he discovered that he was becoming woefully tired. Also, the double weight +worried him. It had not become lighter with the miles, nor had he grown +stronger. Yet he galloped on with thundering hoofs, the tranquil desert before +him, the thud of carbines against leather to the left, behind him ominous +silence. But he kept his eyes steadily to the left, and presently he awoke to +something else there, something that roused him suddenly and in some way whipped +his conscience. For now he saw a white figure amid the khaki, racing along with +them–a part of them and yet no part of them–a familiar figure +wearing a familiar bandage. This for a brief moment only. Then he took to +measuring distances again; saw that the cavalrymen were holding to the course +steadily, racing furiously as he himself was racing for the ridge. Would he +win?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span>A shrill outcry +from his master, and he found himself checked with a jerk. It was unexpected, +sudden, and he reared. The movement shook off the second man. Dropping back upon +all-fours, Pat awoke to the relief the loss of this load gave him. Grimly +determining to hold to this relief, he dashed ahead, following the guidance of +his master in yet another direction, hurtled away before the second man could +mount again.</p> + +<p>He found that he was speeding in a direction almost opposite from the ridge. +He did not understand this. But his regret was not long lived. Casting his eyes +to his left in vague expectancy of seeing the familiar spot of white again, he +saw only his own men and horses, and beyond them the smiling desert. Puzzled, he +gazed to the right. Here he saw the cavalrymen, and though puzzled more, he yet +kept on with all his power. As he ran he suddenly awoke to the presence of a new +body of horsemen on his distant left, a smaller band than the cavalrymen, men +without uniforms, most of them hatless, all yelling. He remembered this yell, +and now he understood. He was speeding toward the mouth of the canyon; had been +turned completely around. And thus it was, he knew, that the horsemen once on +his left were now on his right, and the madly yelling group at his rear was now +on his left. He awoke to another realization. This was a race again, a race with +three new entrants now–all three making toward the canyon. Would he +win?</p> + +<p>He fell to studying the flanking groups. On his <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span> right, riding easily, bent to the +winds, their heavy horses swinging rhythmically, their accoutrements rattling, +galloped the cavalry–steady, sure of themselves, well in hand. On his +left, riding furiously, without formation, dashed the smaller group of +riders–their horses wrangling among themselves, one or two frequently +bucking, all flinging forward in excited disorder. This disorder, this evident +nervousness, he feared. He knew somehow that the first real trouble would come +from this source. He knew men to that extent. And suddenly his fears were +realized. With the three converging lines of direction drawing closer, and the +mouth of the canyon but a short distance away, out of this group on his left +came a nasty rifle-fire, followed by a mighty chorus of yells. There was a +result at once. Close beside him a horse stumbled; the man astride the horse was +thrown headlong; from the cavalrymen on his right came a single shrill, piercing +outcry–a cry to desist! But he did not understand this. Nor did he heed +it. Galloping forward, eyes upon the ever-nearing canyon, he at length became +grimly conscious of approaching defeat–of the firm and ruthless closing in +upon him from either side of the two bands. And now, and not till now, realizing +as he did that the thing was beyond him, that he could not reach the canyon +first–now, and not till now, though soul and body were wrecked by +exhaustion, Pat abated his speed.</p> + +<p>Instantly pandemonium broke loose. He heard <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_253'></a>253</span> the firing on his left increasing. He felt his +master make ready to return it. He saw others around him, twisting vengefully +into position, open with repeating rifles. Then the cavalrymen, evidently forced +into it by the others, swung to the fray with their carbines, which began to +boom on his right. The whole basin echoed and re-echoed sharp reports. Across +his eyes burst intermittent flames. His ears rang with shots and yells. The +shooting became heavier. Bullets sang close about him–seemed +centered–as if the enemy would cut down his master at once and disrupt the +others through his loss. The bullets sang closer still. And now immediately +about him men and horses dropped, upsetting other riders, tumbling over sound +horses–all in a seething chaos. He became dazed. His eyes were blinded +with the flashes, and his ears ached with the crash and tumult. He grew faint. A +dizziness seized him. But on he labored, his head aching, his eyes growing +dimmer, his limbs numb and rebellious, his heart thumping in sullen rebellion, +his ears bursting with the uproar.</p> + +<p>Another change swept over him. Mist leaped before his eyes. The roaring in +his ears subsided. His legs flew off–he had no legs! The mist became a +film. Yet he could see–see faintly. He saw a mad jumble of flying men and +horses–a riotous mixture of color, arms, and firearms whirling and +interlaced, a grim, struggling mass in death-grips. It swept close–crashed +over him, struck him full. He felt the impact–then another. <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span> The ground rose and +struck him. And now there fell upon him a great and wonderful peace–and a +blank–then a voice, a familiar voice, and he drifted into +unconsciousness.</p> + +<p>He was wakened by a fiery liquid in his throat. He slowly opened his eyes. He +saw men and horses, many of them, standing or reclining in small groups. He saw +them between the legs of a group immediately around him–men gazing down at +him pitifully. As he lay thus dazed he heard the familiar voice again. It was +sounding his name. He struggled to his feet. Steadying himself against his +dizziness, he looked curiously at the young man standing before him. And +suddenly he recognized him. This was his young master with the white around his +arm and neck–the young man who had ridden him into the Mexican settlement, +and who had been so good to him there, giving him generous quantities of +alfalfa. He–But the voice was sounding again.</p> + +<p>“You poor dumb brute!” said Stephen, quietly; and Pat liked the +petting he received. “You’ve just come through hell! But–but +if they get you again–anywhere, friend of mine–they’ll wade +through hell themselves to do it.” He was silent. “Pat, old +boy,” he concluded, finally, “you’re going back home! +I–I’m through!”</p> + +<p>A strange thing took place in Pat. Hearing this voice now, and seeing the +owner of it, though he had seen him and heard his voice many times just before +this last heartbreaking task under a <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_255'></a>255</span> strange master, he suddenly found himself thinking +of the little ranch beside the river, and of his loving mistress, and also the +cold and cruel Mexican hostler. And, thinking of them, he found himself thinking +also of another, one who had accompanied him and his mistress on many delightful +trips in the valley and up on the mesa in the shadow of the mountains. And now, +thinking of this person, he somehow recognized this young man before him fully, +and wondered why this had not come to him before. For this was the same young +man–curiously pale, curiously drawn and haggard–but yet the same +man. Understanding, understanding everything, he nickered softly and pressed +close, mindful of yet another thing–something that had helped to make his +life on the little ranch so pleasant and unforgettable. What he was mindful of, +and what he now sought, was sugar and quartered apples.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span><a id='link_21'></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /><span class='h2fs'>LIFE AND DEATH</span></h2> + +<p>The third group in the affray consisted of cowboys. Weary and bedraggled, yet +joyous at the suppression of the uprising, they set out for home about noon. +Stephen, mounted upon Pat, accompanied them. They headed into the northwest, +riding slowly, talking over the affair, while Stephen explained in part his +interest in the black horse. Night found them near a water-hole, and here they +went into camp, Stephen weak and distressed, his whole body aching, his arm and +shoulder throbbing in agonizing pain. The men proved attentive and considerate; +but he lay down exhausted and courted sleep, hardly hearing what they said. +Sleep came to him only fitfully, and he was glad when break of day brought a +change. They rode on through the second day, usually in sober silence, on into +another dusk and another night of torture. A third day and a third dusk +followed, but there was no camp this time. Continuing forward, just before dawn, +with the moon brilliant in the heavens, they reached a cluster of buildings. One +of them was a dwelling with a fence around it as a protection against <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257'></a>257</span> cattle and horses, and +to the rear of this all dismounted. Stephen led Pat into a spacious stable, and, +with the assistance of the others, unsaddled and unbridled him, watered and fed +him generously, then left him for the night.</p> + +<p>Instantly Pat began to inquire into his condition and surroundings. He was +stiff and sore and a little nervous from the events of the past few days, and he +found the stable, spacious though it was, depressing after his protracted life +in the open. Yet there were many offsetting comforts. He had received a generous +supply of grain and all the water he could drink. Then there was another +comfort, though he awoke to this only after sinking to rest. His stall was +thickly bedded with straw, which was comfort indeed, and though he had become +accustomed to the pricking of the desert sand, he nestled into the straw with a +sigh of satisfaction. To his right and left other horses stirred restlessly, and +from outside came an occasional nicker, presumably from some unroofed inclosure. +All these sounds kept him awake for a time, and it was approaching day before he +felt himself sinking off into easy slumber.</p> + +<p>He was awakened by the coming of a stranger into his stall. It was broad +daylight, and he hastily gained his feet, mystified for an instant that he +should be sleeping in broad day, and not a little troubled by his strange +surroundings. The new-comer was a fat youth with a round and smiling face, who, +as he raked down the bedding, talked in a pleasing drawl.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_258'></a>258</span>“Pat,” he began, shoving him over +gently, “you’re shore some cayuse. Wouldn’t mind ownin’ +a piece o’ you myself. But I was goin’ for to say there’s +trouble come onto you. That mighty likable pardner o’ yours is gone in +complete–sick to death. We’ve telephoned for the doc, but he’s +off somewheres, and we’ve got to wait till he gits back. But it’s +shore too bad–all of it. Steve he’s got a nasty arm and shoulder, +and he’s all gone generally. Mighty distressin’ I call +it.”</p> + +<p>With this he slapped Pat heartily and left him.</p> + +<p>When he had gone Pat felt a depression creeping over him. It became heavier +as the hours passed. He knew that his young friend was somewhere about, and +could not understand why he failed to come to him himself, instead of sending +this stranger. Then, with the hours lengthening into a day, and the days +dragging into a week, with only the smiling stranger coming to him regularly, +and petting and stroking and talking to him, he came to feel that something of +grave and serious nature was going on outside. So he longed to get out of the +stable, out into sunlight and away from this restraint, and to see for himself +what it was that was holding his master from him.</p> + +<p>Then late one afternoon he heard a step approaching. It was his +master’s step, yet it was very different. It was slow and dragging, and +while the voice was the same, yet there was a note of hollowness as he spoke +that did not belong there, a note as if it required great effort to speak <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259'></a>259</span> at all. But in spite of +this he recognized his young master, and sounded a welcoming nicker, anxious to +be off. For somehow he believed that now he would be taken out into the +sunlight. Nor was he disappointed. After a moment’s petting the young man +led him outdoors, and there began to bridle and saddle him, slowly, with many +pauses for breath, all as if it hurt him, as indeed it must, since he still wore +the white bandages. Then there appeared a group of interested young men, +suddenly, as though they had just discovered the proposed departure.</p> + +<p>“See here, Steve,” one of them exploded, “this ain’t +treating us a bit nice. You’re a mighty sick man. I ain’t saying +that to worry you, neither; but I can’t see the idee of your hopping out +of bed to do this thing. You stick around till the doc comes again, anyway. Now, +don’t be a fool, Steve.”</p> + +<p>Stephen continued slowly with his saddling. “It’s decent of you +fellows,” he said, quietly. “And I don’t want you to think me +ungrateful. It’s just a feeling I’ve got. I want to get this horse +back where he belongs.”</p> + +<p>Another of the group took up the attempt at persuasion. “But +you’re sick, man!” he exclaimed, beginning to stroke Pat absently. +“You won’t never make the depot! You owe it to everybody +you’ve ever knowed to get right back into bed and stay there!”</p> + +<p>But Stephen only shook his head. Yet he knew that what the boys said was +true. He was <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260'></a>260</span> sick, +and he knew it. He realized that he ought to be in bed. And he wanted to be in +bed. But already he had suffered too much, lying inert, not because of his arm +and the fever upon him, though these were almost unbearable, but because of the +haunting fear, come to him ever more insistently with each passing day, that +since Pat had escaped from him twice thus far, he was destined to escape from +him a third time. Sometimes this fear took shape in visions of a blazing fire in +the stable, in which Pat was burned to a crisp; again it took form in some +malady peculiar to horses which would prove equally disastrous. At last, unable +to withstand these pictures longer, he had crept out of bed, dressed as best he +could, and stolen out of the house, bent upon getting Pat to the railroad, and +there shipping him east to Helen at whatever cost to himself. So here he was, +about to ride off.</p> + +<p>“You’re–you’re mighty decent,” he repeated, +hollowly, by way of farewell. “But I’ve got to go. And don’t +worry about my making the station,” he added, reassuringly. “I have +the directions, and I’ll get there in time to make that ten-thirty +eastbound to-night.” He clambered painfully up into the saddle.</p> + +<p>A third member of the group, the round-faced and smiling cowpuncher, opened +up with his pleasing drawl. “Why’n’t you stay over till +mornin’, then?” he demanded. “The ranch wagon goes up early, +and you could ride the seat just like a well man.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261'></a>261</span>But Stephen +remained obdurate, and, repeating his thanks and farewells, he urged Pat forward +at a walk because he himself could not stand the racking of a more rapid gait. +The men sent after him expressions of regret mingled with friendly +denunciations, but he rode steadily on, closing his ears grimly against their +pleas, and soon he was moving slowly across the Arizona desert. His direction +was northwest, and his destination, though new to him, a little town on the +Santa Fé.</p> + +<p>As he rode forward through the quiet of the afternoon he found his thoughts a +curious conflict. At times he would think of the girl, and of his love for her, +and of the long, still hours spent in the ranch-house brooding, especially the +nights, when, gazing out at the stars, he had wondered whether she knew, or, +knowing, whether, after all, she really cared. They had been lonely nights, +fever-tossed and restless, nights sometimes curiously made up of +pictures–pictures of a runaway horse and of a girl mounted upon the horse, +and of long walks and rides and talks with her afterward, and of the last night +in her company, outside a corral and underneath a smiling moon, the girl in +white, her eyes burning with a strange glow, himself telling his love for her, +and hearing in return only that she did not and could not return that love.</p> + +<p>These were his thoughts at times as he rode forward through the desert +solitude. Then he would awaken to his physical torture, and in this he would +completely forget his spiritual distress, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_262'></a>262</span> would ask why he had flung himself into this +mocking silence and plunged into all this misery and pain. He knew +why–knew it was because of the girl. But would it have been better to +accept her dismissal and, returning to the East, let her pass out of his memory? +In his heart he knew that he could not.</p> + +<p>There followed the thought of his responsibility for Pat, and of what was +left for him to do. He recalled the theft, and his weeks of futile riding to +recover the horse, and the thrill accompanying risk of life when he finally +recovered him. And after that the second theft, and another and more dreadful +ride when he raced through the night after the cavalry–the torture of it, +the agony of his arm, the shooting, and the grappling hand to hand, and Pat +sinking with exhaustion, and the thrill again, his own, at having the horse once +more in his possession. It was <i>worth</i> it–all of it–and he was +<i>glad</i>–glad to have had an object for once in his life. And he still +had that object, for was he not riding the horse on a journey which would end in +placing Pat in the hands of the adorable girl who owned him?</p> + +<p>Thus he rode through the afternoon and on into an early dusk. Suddenly +awaking to the Stygian darkness around him, he gave over thinking of the past +and future and turned uneasy thoughts upon the present. Above him was a black, +impenetrable dome, seemingly within touch of his hand; around and about him +pressed a dense wall that gave no hint of his whereabouts. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_263'></a>263</span> Yet he believed that he was pursuing +the right direction; and, forgetting that Pat, no more than himself, knew the +route, he gave the horse loose rein. Thus for an hour, two hours, three, he rode +slowly forward, when like a flash it came to him that he was hopelessly lost. He +reined in the horse sharply.</p> + +<p>For a time he sat trying to place himself. Failing in this, he raised his +eyes, hoping for a break in the skies. But there was no glimmer of light, and +after a while, not knowing what else to do, he sent Pat forward again. But his +uneasiness would not down, and presently he drew rein again, dismounted, and +fell to listening. There was not a breath of air. He took a step forward, his +uneasiness becoming fear, and again stood motionless, listening, gripped by the +oppressive stillness of the desert. It crept upon him, this death-quiet, seemed +to close about him suffocatingly. Suddenly he started. Out of the dense +blackness had come a voice, weak and plaintive. He turned tense with excitement +and listened keenly.</p> + +<p>“Hello, there! This–over this way!”</p> + +<p>He could see nothing; but he moved in the direction of the voice. After a few +strides he was stopped by a consciousness of something before him, and there was +a constrained groan.</p> + +<p>“Careful, man–I’m hurt. Unhorsed this morning. Been +crawling all day for shade. Strike a match, will you? God! but it’s a +night!”</p> + +<p>Stephen struck a light. As it flared up he saw prone in the sand a young man, +his face drawn <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264'></a>264</span> +with pain, his eyes dark and hunted. The match went out. He struck another. The +man was pitifully bruised and broken. A leg of his trousers had been torn away, +and the limb lay exposed, strangely twisted. His track, made in crawling through +the sand, stood out clearly, trailing away beyond the circling glow of light. A +moment of flickering, and the second match went out.</p> + +<p>“Which way were you headed, friend?” Stephen asked, pityingly. +His heart went out to the stricken stranger. He wanted to ask another question, +too, but he hesitated. But finally he asked it. “Who are you, old +man?”</p> + +<p>For a moment the fellow did not reply. The silence was oppressive. Stephen +regretted his question. Then suddenly the man answered him, weakly, bitterly, as +one utterly remorseful.</p> + +<p>“I’m Jim,” he blurted out. “Horse-thief, +cattle-rustler.”</p> + +<p>Stephen bit his lip. More than ever he regretted that he had asked. Well, +something had to be done, and done quickly. Could he but feel sure of his +direction, he might place this unfortunate upon Pat and walk with him to the +railroad town, where proper medical and surgical attendance could be obtained. +But this he was unable to do, since he fully realized he was astray.</p> + +<p>“Brother,” he suddenly explained, “I was headed, myself, +toward the railroad. A little before dark I lost my way. Do you happen to +know–”</p> + +<p>“Sit down,” interrupted the other, faintly. “I’ve +been–been lost–a week.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265'></a>265</span>Stephen sat down +thoughtfully. All hope of serving the man for the present was gone. He must wait +till daybreak at least. Then somebody or something might appear to show him the +way out. He thought of the ranch wagon, and of Buddy’s offer, and it +occurred to him that unless he was too far off the regular course he might +attract Buddy. It was a chance, anyway.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been ’most dead, too, for a week,” suddenly began the +other. “I ’ain’t eat regularly, for one thing–’most a month of +that, I reckon. Been times, too, when I couldn’t–couldn’t find +water. I didn’t know the country over here. Had to change–change +horses a couple times, too. Because–” He checked himself. “I +made a mistake–the last horse. He give me all–all that was +comin’–”</p> + +<p>A nicker from Pat interrupted him. Stephen felt him cringe. Directly he felt +something else. It was a cold hand groping to find his own. The whole thing was +queer, uncanny, and he was glad when the man went on.</p> + +<p>“Did–did you hear that?” breathed the fellow, a note of +suppressed terror in his voice. “Did you hear it, friend? Tell me!” +His voice was shrill now.</p> + +<p>Stephen reassured him, explaining that it was his horse. But a long time the +man held fast, fingers gripping his hand, as if he did not believe, and was +listening to make sure. At length he relaxed, and Stephen, still seated close +beside him, heard him sink back into the sand.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266'></a>266</span>“I was +getting away from–from–Oh, well, it don’t–don’t +make any difference.” The fellow was silent. “I needed a–a +horse,” he continued, finally. “My own–the third +since–since–my own had played out. I was near a ranch, and–and +it was night, and I–I seen a corral with a horse standing in it–a +gray. It was moonlight. I–I got the gate open, and I–I roped him, +and–” He interrupted himself, was upon one elbow again. “It +was a stallion–a cross-bred, maybe–and–and say, friend, he +rode me to death! I got on him before I knowed what he was. Bareback. He shot +out of that corral like he was crazy. But I–I managed to hold–hold +to him and–if he’d only bucked me off! But he didn’t. He just +raced for it–tore across the country like a cyclone. He rode me to death, +a hundred miles, I bet, without a stop. And I held on–couldn’t let +go–was afraid to let go.” He was silent. “Are you–you +dead sure, friend, that was your horse?”</p> + +<p>Stephen again reassured him, realizing the fear upon the man and now +understanding it. But he said nothing.</p> + +<p>“And then somewhere off here he throwed me,” went on the man. +“But he–he was a raving maniac. He turned on me before I could get +up, and bit and kicked and trampled me till I didn’t know +nothing–was asleep, or something. When I came to–woke up–he +was still hanging around. He’s around here yet! I heard him all +day–yesterday! He’s off there to the east somewheres. +He’s–he’s looking for me. I kept still whenever I’d +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267'></a>267</span> see him or hear +him, and then when he’d move off out of sight, or quit–quit his +nickering, I’d crawl along some more. I’m–I’m done, +stranger,” he concluded, weakly, dropping over upon his back. +“I’m done, and I know it. And it was that horse +that–that–” He was silent.</p> + +<p>Stephen did not speak. He could not speak after this fearsome tale. Its +pictures haunted him. He could see this poor fellow racing across the desert, +clinging for life to that which meant death. His own condition had been brought +about through a horse, a horse and wild rides at a time when he should have +been, as this unfortunate undoubtedly should have been, in bed under medical +care. For a moment he thought he would tell him a tale of misery equal to his +own, in the hope that he might turn him from thoughts of his own misfortunes. +But before he could speak the other broke in upon his thoughts with a shrill +outcry. He had raised himself upon one elbow again, and now was pointing toward +the eastern sky.</p> + +<p>“Look!” he cried. “Look off there!”</p> + +<p>Stephen turned his eyes in the direction of the pointing finger. He saw a +faint light breaking through the black dome of the sky. As he watched it, it +trickled out steadily, like slow-spreading water, filtering slowly through dense +banks of clouds, folding them back like the shutter of a giant camera, until the +whole eastern sky was a field of gray clouds with frosty edges, between which, +coming majestically forward through the green-white billow, appeared finally a +moon, big <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268'></a>268</span> and +round and brilliant, casting over the earth a flood of wonderland light, +streaming down upon the dunes and flats in mystic sheen, bringing out the desert +in soft outline. Near by, the light brought out the form of Pat, standing a +short distance off with drooping head, motionless in all the splendor of his +perfect outline. Stephen turned back to the man. He found him staring hard at +the horse. He did not understand this until the fellow burst out excitedly, his +eyes still fixed on Pat.</p> + +<p>“Whose horse is that?” he demanded. “Tell me. Do you own +that black horse?”</p> + +<p>Stephen slowly shook his head. He thought the question but another expression +of the stranger’s nervous apprehension due to his experience. Yet he +explained.</p> + +<p>“He belongs back in New Mexico,” he said, +quietly–“the Rio Grande Valley. He was stolen last spring. Been +ridden pretty hard since, I guess. I happen to know where he belongs, though, +and I was taking him to a shipping-point when I lost my way. That’s the +horse you heard nicker a while ago,” he added, soothingly.</p> + +<p>The man sank flat again.</p> + +<p>“I stole him,” he blurted out. “I–I hope you’ll +get him back where he belongs. His–his name is Pat. +He’s–he’s the best horse I ever rode.” He relapsed, into +silence, motionless, as one dead.</p> + +<p>Stephen himself remained motionless. He looked at the man curiously. He +believed that <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269'></a>269</span> he +ought to feel bitter toward him, since he saw in him the cause of all his own +misery. But somehow he found that he could feel nothing but pity. In this man +with eyes closed and gasping lips Stephen saw only a brother-mortal in distress, +as he himself was in distress, and he forgave him for anything he had done.</p> + +<p>He looked at Pat, understanding the temptation, and then turned his eyes +pityingly toward the man–the stranger, dozing, murmuring strangely in his +sleep. Seeing him at rest, and realizing the long hours before daybreak, Stephen +finally dropped over upon one elbow, and prepared to pass the night as best he +could. He was suffering torture from his arm and shoulder, and burning with the +fever shown in his hot skin and parched lips.</p> + +<p>The night passed restlessly. He saw the first rays of dawn break over the +range and creep farther and farther down the valley, throwing a pale pink over +the landscape and sending gaunt shadows slinking off into the light. A whinny +from Pat aroused him. He arose painfully, gazed at the man at his feet, and then +turned his eyes toward the distant horizon. A second whinny disturbed him and he +shifted his gaze. Far above two great buzzards, circling round and round, faded +into the morning haze. From a neighboring sand-dune a jack-rabbit appeared, +paused a quivering moment, then scurried from view. The morning light grew +brighter. A third whinny, and Pat now slowly started toward him. But <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270'></a>270</span> again he fastened his +eyes upon the distant horizon, hoping for a sight of the ranch wagon. But no +wagon appeared. At length he turned to the horse. Pat stood soberly regarding +the man, his ears forward, head drooping, tail motionless, as if recognizing in +this mute object an erstwhile master. And suddenly lifting his head, he sounded +a soft nicker, tremulously. Then again he fell to regarding the still form with +strange interest.</p> + +<p>The form was still, still for all eternity. For the man was dead.</p> + +<p>Stephen sat down. He was shaking with fever and weakness. He placed a +handkerchief over the face in repose, almost relieved that peace had come to +this troubled soul. Then he thought of possible action. He realized that he was +utterly lost. He had Pat, and for this he was thankful, since he knew that he +could at least mount the horse and leave him to find a way out. But the horse +alone must do it. He himself was bewildered, for the desert in broad day, as +much as in the long night, revealed nothing. On every hand it lay barren, +destitute of movement, wrapped in silence, seeming to mock his predicament. Yet +he could not bring himself to mount at once. He sat motionless, suffering +acutely, knowing that the least exertion would increase his pain–a machine +run down–not caring to move.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, off to the east appeared a horse–a gray. It cantered +majestically to the top of a dune, and stood there–head erect, nostrils +quivering, ears alert, cresting the hillock like a statue. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_271'></a>271</span> Stephen shivered. For instinctively he +knew this to be the gray stallion, the cross-bred, that had trampled the form +beside him. His first impulse was to mount Pat and spur him in a race for life; +his second impulse was to crouch in hiding in the hope of escaping the keen +scrutiny of that merciless demon. He chose the race. Springing to his feet, he +leaped for Pat, and he grasped the saddle-horn. In his haste he slipped, lost +his stirrup, and fell back headlong. The shock made him faint, and for a time he +was unconscious. Shrill neighing aroused him, and, hastily gaining his feet, he +saw Pat running lightly, well-contained, to meet the swiftly advancing gray +stallion. Then events moved with a terrible unreality.</p> + +<p>The gray screamed defiantly and leaped toward Pat faster and faster. Pat +braced his legs to meet the assault. But no assault came. With rare craft the +gray suddenly checked himself, coming to a full stop two lengths away. Here, +with ears flat and lashing tail, he glared at Pat, who, equally tense, returned +defiance. Thus they stood in the desert, quiet, measuring each other, while +Stephen, crouched, watching them, remembering the lifeless form beside him, +prayed that Pat would prove equal to the mighty stallion. He had no gun. Pat +alone could save him. If Pat were conquered nothing remained but death for both. +For with Pat dead–and surely this masterful foe would stop at nothing +short of death–Stephen realized that he himself, in his present condition, +would never see civilization again. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_272'></a>272</span> He could not walk the distance even if he knew the +way, nor could he hope to mount the victorious stallion, should Pat be defeated, +because only one man had done that, and that man lay dead beside him. The +thought of being alone in the desert with the dead struck chill to his heart. He +recalled his first ride with Helen, and her tales of men and horses in the early +days, and what it meant to a man to have his horse stolen from him. It was all +clear to him now, and he clenched his sound hand till the nails cut the flesh. +Unless Pat fought a successful fight he was doomed to die of thirst, even if the +stallion did not attack him. As he looked at Pat, his only hope in this dread +situation, he prayed harder and more fervently than before that his champion +would win.</p> + +<p>Pat thrilled with the sense of coming battle, but he did not fear this horse. +He remembered that once he had struck down a rival, and before that he had twice +given successful battle to men–to a finish with the Mexican hostler, +another time when he had brought his enemy to respect and consider him. +Therefore he had no reason to fear this horse, even though he saw in the +gray’s splendid figure an enemy to be carefully considered. But not for an +instant did Pat relax. For this was a crafty foe, as shown by his sudden halt, +which Pat knew was the prelude to a swift attack. So he watched with keen +alertness the flattened ears, the lashing tail–his own muscles held rigid, +waiting.</p> + +<p>The gray began a cautious approach. He put <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_273'></a>273</span> forward his legs one after another slowly, the +while he held his eyes turned away, as if he were wholly absorbed in the +vastness of the desert reaches. This was but a mere feint, as Pat understood it, +and yet he waited, curious to know the outcome, still holding himself rigidly on +guard. Closer came the gray, closer still, until he was almost beside him. Pat +heard the whistle of his breath and saw the wild light in his eyes, and for an +instant feared him. Yet there was no attack. The gray calmly gained a point +immediately alongside and stopped, head to Pat’s rump, separated from him +by not more than half his length. Yet he did not attack; but Pat did not relax. +And again they stood, end to end now and side by side, until Pat, coming finally +to think, against his better judgment, that this was, after all, only a friendly +advance, became less watchful. Then the blow fell. With a shrill scream that +chilled Pat’s heart the gray leaped sideways with a peculiar broadside +lunge intended to hurl him off his feet. It was a form of attack new to Pat, and +therefore never known to his ancestors, and before he could brace himself to +meet it he found himself rolling over and over frantically in the sand.</p> + +<p>He sprang up, screaming with rage, while the gray was trampling him with +fiendish hoofs. He steadied himself, resisted the onslaught, took the offensive +himself. He lunged with bared teeth, sank them into yielding flesh, and wheeled +away quickly. But not fast enough. The gray slashed his rump. He turned back, +tore the gray’s shoulder, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_274'></a>274</span> wheeled sharply, attacked with lightning heels, and +darted away again. But again the gray sprang upon him, ripped his rump a second +time, and sprang off like a fiend. Raging, vindictive, Pat hurtled after him, +and snapped again and again, drawing hot blood pungent of taste and smell, and +then he leaped aside. But not far enough. The gray dashed into him, enveloped +him in a whirlwind of clashing teeth and flashing heels, and wheeled away in a +wide circle, screaming to the heavens, leaving Pat, with a dozen stinging +wounds, dazed and exhausted.</p> + +<p>But Pat was quick to recover himself. Also, he took council. Never had he +fought like this. His battle with the white horse had been brief–brief +because of sudden releasing of weeks of venom stored within him by the +white’s continuous nagging, brief because of the white’s inability +to spring from each attack in season to protect himself. But no such +sluggishness hampered this enemy, and he grimly realized that this was a +struggle to the death. But he felt no fear. He respected the other’s craft +and wit and strength. Yet he knew that he himself had strength, while he +realized that strength alone would not conquer. Craft and wit must serve with +strength. Having strength, he himself must adopt the other qualities, must adapt +himself to the occasion, exercise wit and craft, wait for openings, feint and +withdraw, feint and attack, until, wearying this enemy, and puzzling him, there +would come the chance to strike a death-blow. He knew what <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_275'></a>275</span> the death-blow was–knew it from +his encounter with the white. He must inflict it first, lest the gray anticipate +him, for the gray undoubtedly knew, also, from his experience and from his +ancestors, what the death-blow was.</p> + +<p>After a moment of gasping breath and gradually clearing eyes he felt +self-control and assurance return. Since his enemy appeared to be waiting, he +himself continued to wait. He waited three minutes, five minutes, ten, until the +nervous tension would permit him to wait no longer. Remembering his plans, and +emulating the first approach of the gray, he started slowly toward him, putting +forward one foot after another quietly, his eyes upon the distant horizon. He +even outdid the gray in his craft. As he drew near, he suddenly took on the +manner of one seeking friendliness, nickering once softly, as if he had had +enough of this and would ask reconciliation. But his ruse failed. The gray was +wise with the wisdom of the world-free. Plunging suddenly upon him, he snapped +for his ears, but missed. His teeth flashed at Pat’s neck, lodged, and +ripped the flesh. He whirled, lashed out with his heels, missed, and sped away. +Pat wheeled again and again, almost overthrown, and staggered away.</p> + +<p>Again he took council with himself. He was not beaten, he knew that. But +neither was the enemy beaten. He knew that also. And he knew he must bide his +time. Twice he had closed with the enemy, and twice he had come away the worse. +Nothing was to be gained by this method. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_276'></a>276</span> He must bide his time, wait for an encounter, dodge +it if the moment proved unpropitious, but refrain from close attack. He must +wait for his chance.</p> + +<p>As he stood there, alert to every least thing, he suddenly awoke to tease +breathing close behind him. For one flaming moment he was puzzled. Then he +remembered that he had been watching the gray out of the corner of his eye. He +had seemed to be off guard, and the other had stolen cautiously around behind +him, evidently to take advantage of this chance. He swallowed hard. The enemy +was stealing upon him. He wanted to wheel, believed he ought to wheel if he +would save himself, but he did not. Instead, he brought craft into play. He +listened patiently, intensely alert, and bided his time. The breathing came +closer, closer still, and stopped. He heard the enemy swallow. He conquered his +longing to turn, and remained still as death. The gray drew no closer. He seemed +to be waiting, also biding his time. And now it became a test, a matter of +nervous endurance, each waiting for the other. Around them pressed the desert +solitude. There was no sound anywhere. The sun beat down upon the earth +remorselessly. And still Pat waited, but not for long. There was a soft tread +behind him, and he knew that he had won in the contest of endurance. With the +footfalls he heard spasmodic breathing. And yet he waited. But he was ready to +strike–to deal the death-blow. Closer came the restrained breathing, was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277'></a>277</span> close behind him. +Then he struck with all his strength.</p> + +<p>And his lightning heels found their mark. He heard the crack of bone and a +long, terrible scream. He wheeled and saw the gray limping away. Gripped in +sudden overwhelming fury, sounding a cry no less shrill than that of the gray, +he leaped upon the enemy, bore him to earth, and, knowing no mercy, he trampled +and slashed the furiously resisting foe into a bleeding mass. Then he dashed +off, believing that it was all over. He turned toward Stephen and flung up his +head to sound a cry of joy. But he did not sound it, for, taken off his guard, +he suddenly found himself bowled over by the frenzied impact of the gray.</p> + +<p>And Stephen, tense with suspense, felt hope sink within him. For the gray +stallion, even with fore leg broken, was smothering the prostrate Pat in a +raging attack. He saw Pat struggle time and again to gain his feet. At last, +only after desperate effort, he saw him rise. He saw him spring upon the +crippled gray and tear his back and neck and withers until his face and chest +were covered with blood. And then–and at sight of this he went limp in joy +and relief–he saw Pat wheel against the gray and lash out mightily, and he +saw the gray drop upon breast and upper fore legs–hopelessly out of the +struggle. For Pat had broken the second fore leg, and this fiend of the desert +was down for all time.</p> + +<p>And now Pat did a strange thing. As if it suddenly came to him that he had +done a forbidden <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278'></a>278</span> +thing–for, after all, he was a product of advanced civilization–he +flung up his head a second time and sounded a babyish whimper. Then he trotted +straight to Stephen, there to nestle, as one seeking sympathy, under his +master’s enfolding arms. And Stephen, understanding, caressed and hugged +and talked to him in a fervor of gratitude, until, awaking to the distress of +the stallion, he staggered to his feet, intent upon a search for a revolver in +the clothing of the still form. He found one, unexpectedly, in concealing folds, +and with it shot the gray. Then he dragged himself to Pat, clambered dizzily +into the saddle, gave the horse loose rein.</p> + +<p>Pat set out at a walk. He was bleeding in many places, and he was sore and +burning in many others. But he did not permit these things to divert him from +his task. He went on steadily, going he knew not whither, until he felt his +master become inert in the saddle. This troubled him, and, without knowing +precisely why he did it, he freshened his gait and continued at a fox-trot well +into the morning, until his alert eyes suddenly caught sight of a thin column of +dust flung up by galloping horses and swiftly revolving wheels. Then he came to +a halt, and, still not understanding his motives, he pointed his head toward the +distant vehicle and sounded a shrill nicker.</p> + +<p>The effort brought disaster. He felt his young master slip out of the saddle, +saw him totter and sink in a heap on the sand. And now he understood fully. +Throwing up his head again, he <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_279'></a>279</span> awoke the desert with an outcry that racked his +whole body. But he did not stop. Again and again he flung his call across the +silence, hurling it in mighty staccato in the direction of the ranch wagon until +he saw the man suddenly draw rein, remain still for a time, then start up the +horses again, this time in his direction. And now, and not till now, he ceased +his nickering, and, in the great weariness and fatigue upon him, let his head +droop, with eyes closed, until his nose almost touched the ground.</p> + +<p>And although he did not know it, in the past four hours this dumb animal had +in every way lived up to the faith and trust reposed in him by the little woman +in the distant valley.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280'></a>280</span><a id='link_22'></a>CHAPTER XXII<br /><span class='h2fs'>QUIESCENCE</span></h2> + +<p>After long jogging behind the ranch wagon Pat found himself back in a stable. +He found himself attended once more by the round-faced and smiling young man who +had looked after him before. This friend put salve upon his wounds, and after +that, for days and days, provided him with food and water, sometimes talking to +him hopefully, sometimes talking with quiet distress in his voice, sometimes +attending to his wants without talking at all. It was all a dread monotony. The +days became shorter; the nights became longer; a chill crept into the stable. +All day long he stamped away the hours in restless discontent, longing for a +change of some sort, longing for a sight of his young master, wanting to get out +into the open, there to race his legs off in thrilling action.</p> + +<p>Once this wish was granted. The weather was quite cold, and his round-faced +friend came to him that morning showing every sign of haste. Hurriedly he +bridled and saddled Pat, rushed him out of the stable, flung up across his back, +and put spur to him with such vigor that he was forced <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_281'></a>281</span> into a gait the like of which he had +not taken since his breathless speeding to the accompaniment of shots. Out +across the desert he raced, breasting a cold wind, on and on till he found +himself in a small railroad town. Here he was pulled up before a little cottage, +and saw his friend mount the front steps and pull a tiny knob in the frame of +the door. A moment of waiting and he saw a portly man appear, heard sharp +conversation, saw his friend run down the steps. Then again he felt the prick of +spurs, and found himself once more cantering across the desert. But not toward +home. Late in the afternoon, wearied and suffering hunger pangs, he found +himself in another small town and before another tiny cottage, with his friend +pulling at a knob as before, and entering into crisp conversation with the +person who answered, a lean man this time, who nodded his head and withdrew. +After this he once more breasted the cold winds, worse now because of the night, +and continued to breast them until he found himself back in the stable.</p> + +<p>Thus he had his wish. But it was really more than he had wanted, and +thereafter he was content to remain in peace and rest in the stable. But he was +not always confined to the stable now. His friend began to permit him +privileges, and one of these was the spending of long hours outdoors in a +private corral. Here, basking in the sunlight, which was not free from winter +chill, he would spend whole days dreaming and wondering–wondering for the +most part about his master, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_282'></a>282</span> the master he liked, and finding himself ever more +distressed because of his continued absence. Sometimes, in the corral, he would +see men walk slowly in and out of the ranch-house, or come to a halt outside his +fence and stand for long minutes gazing at him, a look in their eyes, he +thought, though he was not quite sure, of pity mingled with sorrow. But though +these men came to him frequently, yet they rarely ever spoke to him; even as his +round-faced friend, though still regularly attentive, rarely ever spoke to him +now. It was all mysterious. He knew that something of a very grave nature was in +the air, but what it was and why his real master never came to him as did the +other men, he did not know, though sometimes he would be obsessed with troubled +thoughts that all was not well with the young man.</p> + +<p>Then one day, with spring descending upon the desert, he saw something that +quickened his interest in life. He saw a door open in the house, saw a very thin +young man appear on the threshold, saw him slowly descend the steps and walk +toward him. It was his master. Yet was it? He pressed close to the fence, gazed +at the man long and earnestly. Then he knew. It was indeed the same young man. +He was much thinner now than when last he had come to him, and he seemed to lack +his old-time energy, but nevertheless it was he. In a moment he knew it for +certain, for the man held out a long, thin, white hand and called his name.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283'></a>283</span>This was the +beginning of the end. Thereafter two and three times a day the young man came to +him, sometimes in the corral, sometimes in the stable, but always with each +successive visit, it seemed to Pat, revealing increasing buoyancy and strength. +And finally there came a day, bright and warm, when his master came to him, as +it proved, to remain with him. The young man was dressed for riding, and he was +surrounded by all the men Pat had ever seen about the place, and not a few whose +faces were new to him. They led him out of the stable into the open, a dozen +hands bridled and saddled him, then all crowded close in joyful +conversation.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir,” began the round-faced young man, slapping Pat +resoundingly upon the rump, “you’re off again! And believe me +I’m one that’s right sorry to see you go. I don’t care +nothin’ about this pardner o’ yours–he don’t count +nohow, anyway. He’s been sick ’most to death, shore, but he’s all +right now as far as <i>that</i> goes. His arm is all healed up, and he’s +fit in every other way–<i>some</i> ways–yet he’s takin’ +himself off from as nice people as ever dragged saddles through a bunk-house at +midnight. But that ain’t it. He’s takin’ old black hoss away +with him, and it don’t jest set. I shore do hate to see you go.”</p> + +<p>Which seemed to express the opinions of the others. And somehow, even when +his master was in the saddle and everything pointing to a final departure, Pat +found himself hating to go. But duty was duty, and after his master had gathered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284'></a>284</span> up the reins and +all had cordially shaken hands he broke into a canter, and, followed by a chorus +of mighty yells, headed into the interminable desert, within him the feeling of +one upon the threshold of new life, or of old and delightful life returned. +Before he realized either the lapse of time or the distance traveled, he found +himself cantering into the little railroad town he had visited so hurriedly in +the winter. And there followed another experience new to Pat–a journey by +train back to his home.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285'></a>285</span><a id='link_23'></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE REUNION</span></h2> + +<p>Stephen awoke quite late in the morning after his arrival in Pat’s home +town. Standing before a window in his room at the hotel, he saw a young woman +cantering across the railroad tracks in the direction of the mesa. It was Helen, +and, at sight of her, for a brief and awful moment he wavered in his decision. +Then he remembered his suffering, and the determination made while convalescing, +and, hastening his toilet, he hurried through breakfast and made his way to the +livery-stable where Pat had spent the night. Pat nickered joyful greeting, as if +understanding what was to come. Bridling and saddling him, Stephen mounted and +rode into the street at a canter. He turned into the avenue, crossed the +railroad tracks, and mounted the long, slow rise to the mesa at a walk. He moved +slowly because he wanted time to think, to pull himself together, to the end +that he might hold himself firmly to his decision in this last talk. And +yet–and this was the conflict he suffered–he could hardly restrain +himself, hold himself back, from urging Pat to his utmost.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286'></a>286</span>He reached the +first flat in the long rise. Absorbed in troubled reflections, he was barely +conscious of the nods from two men he passed whom he knew–Hodgins, kindly +old soul, book in hand; Maguire, truest of Celts, a twenty-inch slide-rule under +his arm. Nodding in friendly recognition, both men gazed at the horse, seeming +to understand, and glad to know that he was back. Mounting the second rise, he +saw another whom he knew. A quarter of a mile to his left, on the tiny porch of +a lone adobe, sat Skeet under a hat, feet elevated to the porch railing, head +turned in a listening attitude, as though heeding a call, or many calls, from +the direction of a brick-and-stone structure to the southwest. Everywhere +familiar objects, scenes, stray people, caught his eye as he rode slowly out +upon the mesa, trying to get his thoughts away from the immediate future, from +Helen, his successful return of the horse, and that other thing, his +determination to leave this spacious land for ever.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he saw her. She was standing beside her brown saddler, her hand upon +the bridle, gazing thoughtfully toward the mountains, now in their morning +splendor. He rode Pat to a point perhaps twenty feet behind her, and then +quietly let go of the reins and dropped to earth. For a moment he stood, his +heart a well of bitterness; then, taking Pat’s rein, he stepped toward +her, quietly and slowly, intent upon making her surprise complete, because of +her great love for the horse. She continued motionless, her hand upon <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287'></a>287</span> the bridle, facing the +mountains, and he came close before she turned.</p> + +<p>He stopped. She stood perfectly still, eyes upon him, upon the horse, a slow +pallor creeping into her face. Presently, as one in a spell, she let fall the +reins, slowly, mechanically, and stepped toward him, a step ever quickening, her +face drawn, in her eyes a strange, unchanging glow, until, when almost upon him, +she held out both arms in trembling welcome and uttered a pitiful outcry.</p> + +<p>“Stephen! Pat!” she sobbed. “Why–why didn’t +you–” She checked herself, came close, reached one arm around Pat, +the other around Stephen, and went on. “I am–am glad you–you +have come back–back to me.” Her white face quivered. “Both of +you. I–I have suffered.”</p> + +<p>And Stephen, swept away by the tide of his great love, and forgetting his +determination, forgetting everything, bent his head and kissed her. She did not +shrink, and he kissed her again. Then he began to talk, to tell her of her +wonderful horse. Slowly at first, hesitating, then, as the spirit of the drama +gripped him, rapidly, sometimes incoherently, he told of his adventures with the +horse, and of Pat’s unwavering loyalty throughout, and of that last dread +situation when both their lives depended upon Pat’s winning in a +death-grapple with a wild horse. And then, as the gates of speech were opened, +he showed her his own part, telling her that as Pat had been <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288'></a>288</span> true to her trust, so he +himself had tried to be true to her faith and trust, and was still trying and +hoping, against his convictions, that she understood, that she would consider +his love for her and would take him, because he loved her wholly and he needed +her love to live. His tense words broke at last, and then he saw her looking up +at him through tear-dimmed eyes and smiling, and in the smile he saw the opening +of a life new and wonderful.</p> + +<p>After a little she turned to Pat. She fell to stroking him in thoughtful +silence. Then she turned back.</p> + +<p>“I had heard much of what you have been through,” she began, +slowly, her voice soft and vibrant with deep sympathy, in her eyes that same +steady glow. “The rangers reported to headquarters, and headquarters +reported to Daddy. They told of the running fight, Stephen, and how–how +you were hurt. And they told of the renegades, and their descent upon your camp, +and of Pat’s disappearance. And they told of the way you mounted another +horse, hurt and sick though you were, and rode off in pursuit. But from there +they knew nothing more. But they had spoken of the cavalry, and I wrote to Fort +Wingate, inquiring, and they told me what they knew–that you had joined +them and ridden with them through that dreadful fight, though they had tried to +keep you out of it on account of your condition, and that afterward you had gone +off with some cowboys–they didn’t know to what ranch. So I looked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289'></a>289</span> up every brand in +that section, Stephen,” she went on, her voice beginning to break. +“And I wrote to every place that might by any possible chance know +something. But nobody knew. And–and–there I–I was stopped. You +had been swallowed up in that desert, and I–I knew you must be +ill–and I realized that I–I had sent you into it all.” She +sobbed and leaned her head against him. “I couldn’t do anything, +Stephen. I was helpless. All I have been able to do at any time, Stephen, was +to–to sit at a window and wait–wait to hear from you–wait for +your return–and hope, hope day in and day out that–that you were +safe. I–I have–have suffered, Stephen,” she concluded, sobbing +wretchedly now. “I have suffered–suffered so much!”</p> + +<p>He drew her close in his arms, united at last in complete understanding. The +brown saddler, left free, wandered away indifferently; but Pat remained beside +them, and presently they felt the tender touch of his beautiful head, as if in +comprehension and blessing. Their hands went out to him, and Pat nickered softly +at the love in their caress. Then Stephen gently raised Helen’s sweet, +tear-stained face to his, and in her eyes he read the certainty of the great +happiness of years to come, while Pat, raising his head proudly to the desert, +stood above them as if in solemn protection.</p> + +<p class='finis'>THE END</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs12'>ZANE GREY’S NOVELS</p> + +<p class='c fs08'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & +Dunlap’s list</p> + +<hr class='hr30' /> + +<p class='u'>THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS</p> + +<p>Colored frontispiece by W. Herbert Dunton.</p> + +<p>Most of the action of this story takes place near the turbulent Mexican +border of the present day. A New York society girl buys a ranch which becomes +the center of frontier warfare. Her loyal cowboys defend her property from +bandits, and her superintendent rescues her when she is captured by them. A +surprising climax brings the story to a delightful close.</p> + +<p class='u'>DESERT GOLD</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Douglas Duer.</p> + +<p>Another fascinating story of the Mexican border. Two men, lost in the desert, +discover gold when, overcome by weakness, they can go no farther. The rest of +the story describes the recent uprising along the border, and ends with the +finding of the gold which the two prospectors had willed to the girl who is the +story’s heroine.</p> + +<p class='u'>RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Douglas Duer.</p> + +<p>A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when Mormon authority +ruled. In the persecution of Jane Withersteen, a rich ranch owner, we are +permitted to see the methods employed by the invisible hand of the Mormon Church +to break her will.</p> + +<p class='u'>THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN</p> + +<p>Illustrated with photograph reproductions.</p> + +<p>This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo Jones, known +as the preserver of the American bison, across the Arizona desert and of a hunt +in “that wonderful country of yellow crags, deep canons and giant +pines.” It is a fascinating story.</p> + +<p class='u'>THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT</p> + +<p>Jacket in color. Frontispiece.</p> + +<p>This big human drama is played in the Painted Desert. A lovely girl, who has +been reared among Mormons, learns to love a young New Englander. The Mormon +religion, however, demands that the girl shall become the second wife of one of +the Mormons–</p> + +<p>Well, that’s the problem of this sensational, big selling story.</p> + +<p class='u'>BETTY ZANE</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Louis F. Grant.</p> + +<p>This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beautiful young +sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers. Life along the +frontier, attacks by Indians, Betty’s heroic defense of the beleaguered +garrison at Wheeling, the burning of the Fort, and Betty’s final race for +life make up this never-to-be-forgotten story.</p> + +<hr class='hr30' /> + +<p class='c sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c'>NOVELS OF FRONTIER LIFE BY<br /> +<span class='fs13'>WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE</span></p> + +<p class='c fs08'>HANDSOMELY BOUND IN CLOTH. ILLUSTRATED.</p> + +<p class='c fs08'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and +Dunlap’s list</p> + +<hr class='hr30' /> + +<p class='u'>MAVERICKS.</p> + +<p>A tale of the western frontier, where the “rustler,” whose +depredations are so keenly resented by the early settlers of the range, abounds. +One of the sweetest love stories ever told.</p> + +<p class='u'>A TEXAS RANGER.</p> + +<p>How a member of the most dauntless border police force carried law into the +mesquite, saved the life of an innocent man after a series of thrilling +adventures, followed a fugitive to Wyoming, and then passed through deadly peril +to ultimate happiness.</p> + +<p class='u'>WYOMING.</p> + +<p>In this vivid story of the outdoor West the author has captured the breezy +charm of “cattleland,” and brings out the turbid life of the +frontier with all its engaging dash and vigor.</p> + +<p class='u'>RIDGWAY OF MONTANA.</p> + +<p>The scene is laid in the mining centers of Montana, where politics and mining +industries are the religion of the country. The political contest, the love +scene, and the fine character drawing give this story great strength and +charm.</p> + +<p class='u'>BUCKY O’CONNOR,</p> + +<p>Every chapter teems with wholesome, stirring adventures, replete with the +dashing spirit of the border, told with dramatic dash and absorbing fascination +of style and plot.</p> + +<p class='u'>CROOKED TRAILS AND STRAIGHT.</p> + +<p>A story of Arizona; of swift-riding men and daring outlaws; of a bitter feud +between cattle-men and sheep-herders. The heroine is a most unusual woman and +her love story reaches a culmination that is fittingly characteristic of the +great free West.</p> + +<p class='u'>BRAND BLOTTERS.</p> + +<p>A story of the Cattle Range. This story brings out the turbid life of the +frontier, with all its engaging dash and vigor, with a charming love interest +running through its 320 pages.</p> + +<hr class='hr30' /> + +<p class='c sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs13'>JACK LONDON’S NOVELS</p> + +<p class='c fs08'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & +Dunlap’s list.</p> + +<hr class='hr30' /> + +<p><span class='u'>JOHN BARLEYCORN</span>. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn.</p> + +<p>This remarkable book is a record of the author’s own amazing +experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been acquainted with alcohol +from boyhood, comes out boldly against John Barleycorn. It is a string of +exciting adventures, yet it forcefully conveys an unforgetable idea and makes a +typical Jack London book.</p> + +<p><span class='u'>THE VALLEY OF THE MOON</span>. Frontispiece by George +Harper.</p> + +<p>The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster and ex-prize +fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and love and marry. They tramp +from one end of California to the other, and in the Valley of the Moon find the +farm paradise that is to be their salvation.</p> + +<p><span class='u'>BURNING DAYLIGHT</span>. Four illustrations.</p> + +<p>The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the foundations of his +fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing his fortunes to the States he +is cheated out of it by a crowd of money kings, and recovers it only at the +muzzle of his gun. He then starts out as a merciless exploiter on his own +account. Finally he takes to drinking and becomes a picture of degeneration. +About this time he falls in love with his stenographer and wins her heart but +not her hand and then–but read the story!</p> + +<p><span class='u'>A SON OF THE SUN</span>. Illustrated by A. O. Fischer and C. +W. Ashley.</p> + +<p>David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came from England to +the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned like a native and as lithe as a +tiger, he became a real son of the sun. The life appealed to him and he remained +and became very wealthy.</p> + +<p><span class='u'>THE CALL OF THE WILD</span>. Illustrations by Philip R. +Goodwin and Charles Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper.</p> + +<p>A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man’s exploits could be. +Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is picturesque color to transport +the reader to primitive scenes.</p> + +<p><span class='u'>THE SEA WOLF</span>. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward.</p> + +<p>Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious life into the +power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A novel of adventure warmed +by a beautiful love episode that every reader will hail with delight.</p> + +<p><span class='u'>WHITE FANG</span>. Illustrated by Charles Livingston +Bull.</p> + +<p>“White Fang” is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the +frozen north; he gradually comes under the spell of man’s companionship, +and surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog. Thereafter he is +man’s loving slave.</p> + +<hr class='hr30' /> + +<p class='c sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c'>STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY<br /> +<span class='fs13'>GENE STRATTON-PORTER</span></p> + +<p class='c fs08'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and +Dunlap’s list</p> + +<hr class='hr30' /> + +<div class='imgleft'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/iad1.jpg' /> +</div> + +<p class='u'>LADDIE.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer.</p> + +<p>This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The story is +told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, but it is +concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love affairs of older +members of the family. Chief among them is that of Laddie, the older brother +whom Little Sister adores, and the Princess, an English girl who has come to +live in the neighborhood and about whose family there hangs a mystery. There is +a wedding midway in the book and a double wedding at the close.</p> + +<p class='u'>THE HARVESTER.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs.</p> + +<p>“The Harvester,” David Langston, is a man of the woods and +fields, who draws his living from the prodigal hand of Mother Nature herself. If +the book had nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would be +notable. But when the Girl comes to his “Medicine Woods,” and the +Harvester’s whole being realizes that this is the highest point of life +which has come to him–there begins a romance of the rarest idyllic +quality.</p> + +<p class='u'>FRECKLES.</p> + +<p>Decorations by E. Stetson Crawford.</p> + +<p>Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he +takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great Limberlost +Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to the charm of his +engaging personality; and his love-story with “The Angel” are full +of real sentiment.</p> + +<p class='u'>A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by Wladyslaw T. Brenda.</p> + +<p>The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, lovable type of the +self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness towards all +things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of her soul, and the +purity of her vision, she wins from barren and unpromising surroundings those +rewards of high courage.</p> + +<p class='u'>AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW.</p> + +<p>Illustrations in colors by Oliver Kemp.</p> + +<p>The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. The story +is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love. The novel is +brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and its pathos and tender +sentiment will endear it to all.</p> + +<hr class='hr30' /> + +<p class='c sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs13 mb05'>JOHN FOX, JR’S.</p> + +<p class='c fs11 mt00'>STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS</p> + +<p class='c fs08'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and +Dunlap’s list</p> + +<hr class='hr30' /> + +<div class='imgleft'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/iad2.jpg' /> +</div> + +<p class='u'>THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.</p> + +<p>The “lonesome pine” from which the story takes its name was a +tall tree that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the +pine lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and when he +finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the foot-prints of +a girl. And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, and the trail of these +girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a madder chase than “the trail +of the lonesome pine.”</p> + +<p class='u'>THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME</p> + +<p>Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.</p> + +<p>This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as “Kingdom +Come.” It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from +which often springs the flower of civilization.</p> + +<p>“Chad,” the “little shepherd,” did not know who he +was nor whence he came–he had just wandered from door to door since early +childhood, seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and +mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery–a charming waif, by +the way, who could play the banjo better than anyone else in the mountains.</p> + +<p class='u'>A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.</p> + +<p>The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of +moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner’s son, and the heroine +a beautiful girl perversely christened “The Blight.” Two impetuous +young Southerners fall under the spell of “The Blight’s” +charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in the love +making of the mountaineers.</p> + +<p>Included in this volume is “Hell fer-Sartain” and other stories, +some of Mr. Fox’s most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives.</p> + +<hr class='hr30' /> + +<p class='c i fs08'>Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular +Copyrighted Fiction</p> + +<p class='c sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs15'>B. M. Bower’s Novels</p> + +<p class='c fs12'>THRILLING WESTERN ROMANCES</p> + +<p class='c fs08'>Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated</p> + +<hr class='hr30' /> + +<p class='u'>CHIP, OF THE FLYING U</p> + +<p>A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Della Whitman +are charmingly and humorously told. Chip’s jealousy of Dr. Cecil Grantham, +who turns out to be a big blue eyed young woman is very amusing. A clever, +realistic story of the American Cowpuncher.</p> + +<p class='u'>THE HAPPY FAMILY</p> + +<p>A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen jovial, +big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find Ananias Green, known +as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many lively and exciting adventures.</p> + +<p class='u'>HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT</p> + +<p>A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners who +exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana ranch-house. +The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and the effusive Sir +Redmond, become living, breathing personalities.</p> + +<p class='u'>THE RANGE DWELLERS</p> + +<p>Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. Spirited +action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and Juliet courtship make +this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without a dull page.</p> + +<p class='u'>THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS</p> + +<p>A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, among the cowboys +of the West, in search of “local color” for a new novel. +“Bud” Thurston learns many a lesson while following “the lure +of the dim trails” but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that +of love.</p> + +<p class='u'>THE LONESOME TRAIL</p> + +<p>“Weary” Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where +conventional city life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with +the atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large brown +eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story.</p> + +<p class='u'>THE LONG SHADOW</p> + +<p>A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a +mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game of life +fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from start to finish.</p> + +<hr class='hr30' /> + +<p class='c i fs08'>Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular +Copyrighted Fiction</p> + +<p class='c sc'>Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bred of the Desert, by Marcus Horton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRED OF THE DESERT *** + +***** This file should be named 31380-h.htm or 31380-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/8/31380/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.fadedpage.com + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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