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.

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.

Daylight followed swiftly. From a dull lead
color the sky immediately above the ridge, which

[[162]]

p161 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p162w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p163

v?