hed. The
camp-fire flickered between the riders and the herd, and its flaring
light seemed to make the cow-boys and cattle nearest it lurch back and
forward in and out of the gloom while their changing shadows danced
fantastically over the prairie. Here the three riders paused again to
listen. Closer by, the cow-boys' crooning would have sounded harsh and
unmusical, but at this distance it shaped itself into a plaintive, minor
melody that was very pleasing. For many moments they waited and enjoyed
it in silence. Then suddenly a quick gust of wind and a low, muttering
rumble of thunder made them turn quickly and look at the sky behind
them.

A bank of dead black clouds was rising on the eastern horizon.

John stopped, gazed at it ruefully for a moment, and said:

"There's a big thunder-storm coming; but we can get home all right
before it strikes us. You girls ride slowly back. I'll rush to the camp
and tell the boys to stop in in the morning. I'll overtake you before
you've gone far."

With that he was off at a brisk canter toward the herd.

Martha and Scylla did as he told them. The rising but still distant
clouds, lighted on their edges by the moon, added greatly to the beauty
of the night, and both the girls appreciated the sight. They walked
their horses and talked girlish nonsense. John had promised to take
Martha to the North the next winter, and she told Scylla some of the
wonderful things she had heard about the great cities and the curious
things to be seen up there.

Suddenly Scylla interrupted her with:

"Martha, I believe there's something the matter with Texas--he's
trembling all over."

"Oh, I guess not," said Martha; "he's just tired. Texas has had a
pretty hard day of it. But yet, he doesn't often get tired."

She rode up close to Scylla and put her hand on Texas's neck. It was wet
with sweat, although he had hardly gone faster than a walk since he had
left the ranch.

And, sure enough, he _was_ trembling slightly.

"There is something the matter with him, I know," said Scylla.

"Stop a minute and take my reins; I'll get off and see what it is," said
Martha. "You're right. Texas is trembling like a leaf. Perhaps we'd
better wait here for John."

There was an anxious little quaver in her voice as she dismounted and,
going in front of Texas, took his head between her hands. There was no
longer any doubt that the horse was sick, and very sick. His eyes closed
sleepily, and his head dropped