and round and brilliant, casting over the earth
a flood of wonderland light, streaming down upon
the dunes and flats in mystic sheen, bringing out
the desert in soft outline. Near by, the light
brought out the form of Pat, standing a short distance
off with drooping head, motionless in all the
splendor of his perfect outline. Stephen turned
back to the man. He found Mm staring hard at
the horse. He did not understand this until the
fellow burst out excitedly, his eyes still fixed on
Pat.

"Whose horse is that?" he demanded. "Tell
me. Do you own that black horse?"

Stephen slowly shook his head. He thought
the question but another expression of the stranger's
nervous apprehension due to his experience.
Yet he explained.

"He belongs back in New Mexico," he said,
quietly -- "the Rio Grande Valley. He was stolen
last spring. Been ridden pretty hard since, I guess.
I happen to know where he belongs, though, and
I was taking him to a shipping-point when I lost
my way. That's the horse you heard nicker a
while-ago," he added, soothingly.

The man sank flat again.

"I stole him," he blurted out. "I -- I hope
you'll get him back where he belongs. His -- his
name is Pat. He's -- he's the best horse I ever
rode." He relapsed, into silence, motionless, as
one dead.

Stephen himself remained motionless. He
looked at the man curiously. He believed that

[[268]]

p267 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p268w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p269

v?