wild horses were running back up the valley. Pan estimated he saw
thousands, but there were no heavy black masses, no sweeping stormlike
clouds of horses, such as had borne down on that corner of the valley.

He was weary, but he could have sung for very joy. Happily his
thoughts reverted to Lucy and the future. He would pick out a couple
of beautiful ponies for her, and break them gently. He would find some
swift sturdy horses for himself. Then, as many thousands of times, he
thought of his first horse Curly. None could ever take his place. But
how he would have loved to own the black stallion!

"I'm just as glad, though, he got away," mused Pan.

The afternoon was half gone and hazy, owing to the drifting clouds of
dust that had risen from the valley. As Pan neared the end of the
fence, which was still a goodly distance from the gateway, he was
surprised that he did not see any horses or men. The wide brush gates
had been closed. Beyond them and over the bluff he saw clouds of dust,
like smoke, rising lazily, as if just stirred.

"Horses in the corrals!" he exclaimed. "I'll bet they're full....
Gee! now comes the problem. But we could hold a thousand head there
for a week--maybe ten days. There's water and grass. Reckon, though,
I'll sell tomorrow."

He would have hurried on but for the fact that Sorrel had begun to
limp. Pan remembered going over a steep soft bank where the horse had
stumbled. Dismounting, Pan walked the rest of the way to the bluff,
beginning to think it strange he did not see or hear any of his
comrades. No doubt they were back revelling in the corrals full of
wild horses.

"It's been a great day. If only I could get word to Lucy!"

Pan opened the small gate, and led Sorrel into the lane. Still he did
not see anything of the men. He did hear, however, a snorting,
trampling of many horses, over in the direction of the farther corral.

At the end of the bluff, where the line of slope curved in deep, Pan
suddenly saw a number of saddled horses, without riders.

With a violent start he halted.

There were men, strange men, standing in groups, lounging on the rocks,
sitting down, all as if waiting.

A little to the left of these Pan's lightning swift gaze took in
another group. His men! Not lounging, not conversing, but aloof from
each other, lax and abject, or strung motionless!

Bewildered, shocked, Pan swept his eyes back upon the strangers.

"Hardman! Purcell!"