"All right!" he agreed, tensely. "I take thot
bet! I bet you thees wagon, thees _caballos_, 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?"

The fellow-townsman nodded. Whereat Felipe
nodded approval of the nod, and stepped out into
the trail, followed by the other.

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.

"Franke," he burst out, "I haf win thee bet!
Eet is not a mare; eet is a li'l' horse!" He struck
his _compadre_ a resounding blow on the back. "I
am mooch sorry, Franke," he declared -- "not!"
He turned back to the faint outline of the colt.

[[13]]

p012 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p013w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p014

v?