There was further silence.

"Johnson," went on the high-pitched voice
again, after a time, "did ye git what Zeke said
about the country down there?"

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.

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.

Toward noon, as he was brooding over another
distress, one caused by gnawing hunger, he felt

[[164]]

p163 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p164w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p165

v?