tress, 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.

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 _worth_ it --
all of it -- and he was _glad_ -- 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?

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.

[[262]]

p261 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p262w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p263

v?