eamt it--with the rest," he said. "And if I didn't,
that was enough to remember. God bless her for her gentleness."

Again he flung the memories from him with an effort that brought a dew
to his face, but the conflict which must be fought every day was over,
and he stretched his long limbs amidst the soft cedar-twigs and lay
down to sleep with a stolid acquiescence that if wholly free from
bitterness was but little brightened by the victory. The man's life
had been a struggle almost since its beginning, and he was stubborn,
but his own headstrong passions had been the most obdurate enemy he had
ever brought into subjection.

Sleep came and brought him forgetfulness. The fire sank to a lambent
flicker above the white-flecked embers, the pines sang their mystic
songs about him as a little breeze awoke, and their soft sighing was
answered by the growl of the torrent far down in the ravine. Now and
then the horse stamped restlessly and tugged at the lariat that was
pegged down within reach of Alton's arm, and once came up and looked
down on him. Alton usually slumbered lightly in the bush, but man's
primitive instincts reassert themselves in the wilderness, and because
it is possible that his senses were not wholly dormant and there was
some subtle sympathy between him and the beasts that served him he did
not awaken.

Then the horse grew restless and pricked its ears, stood still
snorting, and backed away to the length of its tether as a face looked
out from the undergrowth. The sinking light of the fire was on it, and
it was an evil face with the stamp of hunger on it, and malevolence in
the staring eyes. Again the horse snorted and trembled as an arm was
thrust out of the bushes and something glinted in the hand, but Alton
still lay motionless with the pack saddle under his shoulders.

Then a man crawled clear of the undergrowth, rose up, and stooped over
the lariat with a knife in his hand. He needed a horse badly, and one
stroke with the blade would give him one; but he needed food and a
saddle almost as much, and moving forward a few paces gazed at the
sleeping man. He saw the pack that had been seized to the saddle, and
guessed that there were several days' provisions inside it, while a
wolfish gleam came into his eyes as he straightened himself and stood
very still listening. His garments hung in thorn-rent rags about him,
weariness was in his very attitude, but his face had written on it the
cunning