the only thing in the world. It had taken up
so much of their recent thought that they had forgotten everything
else. Now a terrible and gnawing hunger came upon them and they knew
that if they would live and travel--and they must travel--they would
have to have food at once.

Over there at the end of the lake where the cooking fires had now died
out there were men lying down to sleep with full stomachs. There was
food over there, food in plenty, food to be had for the taking! Now it
did not seem that thirst was so terrible, nor were armed men any great
thing to be feared. Hunger was the only real enemy. Food was the one
thing that they must have, before all else and in spite of all else.
They would go over there and take the food in the face of all the
world!

Brom Bones was hobbled down by the water side picking drowsily at a
few wisps of half-burnt grass and sniffing discontentedly to himself.
There was a great deal wrong with the world. He had not, it seemed,
seen a spear of fresh grass for an age. And as for oats, he did not
remember when he had had any. It was true that Ruth had dug up some
baked potatoes out of a field for him and he had been glad to eat
them, but--Fresh grass! Or oats!

Just then he felt a strange hand slipping his hobbles. It was nothing
to be alarmed at, of course. But he did not like strange hands around
him. He let fly a swift kick into the dark, and thought no more of the
matter.

A few moments later a man went running softly toward the horse. He
carried a bundle of tinned meats and preserves slung in a coat. At
peril of his life he had crept up and stolen them from the common pile
that was stacked up at the very door of the shanty where the women and
children slept. As he came running he grabbed for Brom Bones' bridle
and tried to launch himself across the colt's back. In his leap a can
of meat fell and a sharp corner of it struck and cut deep into Brom
Bones' hock. The colt squealed and leaped aside.

A man sprang up from the side of a fire, gripping a rifle and kicking
the embers into a blaze. He saw the man struggling with the horse and
fired. The colt with one unearthly scream of terror leaped and
plunged head down towards the water, shot dead through his stout,
faithful heart.

In a moment twenty men were running into the dark, shouting and
shooting at everything that seemed to move, while the women and
children screamed and wailed their fright within the little building.

T