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----- {{frankp109.png}} || bred of the desert ||


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.

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, wrhere 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.

"Where you got thot horse?" inquired Pedro,
after a long moment, as he slowly removed a


[[109]]

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