re and getting a meal. In the
midst of his task a sudden ruddy brightness fell around him. Lin Slone
paused in his work to look up.

The sun had risen over the eastern wall.

"Ah!" he said, and drew a deep breath.

The cold, steely, darkling sweep of desert had been transformed. It was
now a world of red earth and gold rocks and purple sage, with
everywhere the endless straggling green cedars. A breeze whipped in,
making the fire roar softly. The sun felt warm on his cheek. And at the
moment he heard the whistle of his horse.

"Good old Nagger!" he said. "I shore won't have to track you this
mornin'."

Presently he went off into the cedars to find Nagger and the mustang
that he used to carry a pack. Nagger was grazing in a little open patch
among the trees, but the pack-horse was missing. Slone seemed to know
in what direction to go to find the trail, for he came upon it very
soon. The pack-horse wore hobbles, but he belonged to the class that
could cover a great deal of ground when hobbled. Slone did not expect
the horse to go far, considering that the grass thereabouts was good.
But in a wild-horse country it was not safe to give any horse a chance.
The call of his wild brethren was irresistible. Slone, however, found
the mustang standing quietly in a clump of cedars, and, removing the
hobbles, he mounted and rode back to camp. Nagger caught sight of him
and came at his call.

This horse Nagger appeared as unique in his class as Slone was rare
among riders. Nagger seemed of several colors, though black
predominated. His coat was shaggy, almost woolly, like that of a sheep.
He was huge, raw-boned, knotty, long of body and long of leg, with the
head of a war charger. His build did not suggest speed. There appeared
to be something slow and ponderous about him, similar to an elephant,
with the same suggestion of power and endurance. Slone discarded the
pack-saddle and bags. The latter were almost empty. He roped the
tarpaulin on the back of the mustang, and, making a small bundle of his
few supplies, he tied that to the tarpaulin. His blanket he used for a
saddle-blanket on Nagger. Of the utensils left by the Stewarts he chose
a couple of small iron pans, with long handles. The rest he left. In
his saddle-bags he had a few extra horseshoes, some nails, bullets for
his rifle, and a knife with a heavy blade.

"Not a rich outfit for a far country," he mused. Slone did not talk
very much, and when he did he address