again he fastened his eyes upon the distant horizon,
hoping for a sight of the ranch wagon. But
no wagon appeared. At length he turned to the
horse. Pat stood soberly regarding the man, his
ears forward, head drooping, tail motionless, as
if recognizing in this mute object an erstwhile
master. And suddenly lifting his head, he sounded
a soft nicker, tremulously. Then again he fell
to regarding the still form with strange interest.

The form was still, still for all eternity. For
the man was dead.

Stephen sat down. He was shaking with fever
and weakness. He placed a handkerchief over
the face in repose, almost relieved that peace had
come to this troubled soul. Then he thought of
possible action. He realized that he was utterly
lost. He had Pat, and for this he was thankful,
since he knew that he could at least mount the
horse and leave him to find a way out. But the
horse alone must do it. He himself was bewildered,
for the desert in broad day, as much as in the long
night, revealed nothing. On every hand it lay
barren, destitute of movement, wrapped in silence,
seeming to mock his predicament. Yet he
could not bring himself to mount at once. He
sat motionless, suffering acutely, knowing that
the least exertion would increase his pain -- a
machine run down -- not caring to move.

Suddenly, off to the east appeared a horse-a
gray. It cantered majestically to the top of a
dune, and stood there -- head erect, nostrils
quivering, ears alert, cresting the hillock like a statue.

[[270]]

p269 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p270w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p271

v?