the master he liked, and finding himself ever more
distressed because of his continued absence.
Sometimes, in the corral, he would see men walk
slowly in and out of the ranch-house, or come to a
halt outside his fence and stand for long minutes
gazing at him, a look in their eyes, he thought,
though he was not quite sure, of pity mingled with
sorrow. But though these men came to him frequently,
yet they rarely ever spoke to him; even
as his round-faced friend, though still regularly
attentive, rarely ever spoke to him now. It
was all mysterious. He knew that something
of a very grave nature was in the air, but what
it was and why his real master never came to him
as did the other men, he did not know, though
sometimes he would be obsessed with troubled
thoughts that all was not well with the young
man.

Then one day, with spring descending upon
the desert, he saw something that quickened his
interest in life. He saw a door open in the house,
saw a very thin young man appear on the threshold,
saw him slowly descend the steps and walk
toward him. It was his master. Yet was it?
He pressed close to the fence, gazed at the man
long and earnestly. Then he knew. It was indeed
the same young man. He was much thinner
now than when last he had come to him, and
he seemed to lack his old-time energy, but nevertheless
it was he. In a moment he knew it for
certain, for the man held out a long, thin, white
hand and called his name.

[[282]]

p281 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p282w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p283

v?