r. Mrs.
Taylor also saw the sharp cut she gave the horse, and laughed grimly
to herself in her window as horse and rider galloped into the beautiful
sunny loneliness.

To the punished animal this switching was new! and at its third
repetition he turned his head in surprise, but was no more heeded than
were the bluffs and flowers where he was taking his own undirected
choice of way. He carried her over ground she knew by heart--Corncliff
Mesa, Crowheart Butte, Westfall's Crossing, Upper Canyon; open land and
woodland, pines and sage-brush, all silent and grave and lustrous in the
sunshine. Once and again a ranchman greeted her, and wondered if she
had forgotten who he was; once she passed some cow-punchers with a small
herd of steers, and they stared after her too. Bear Creek narrowed, its
mountain-sides drew near, its little falls began to rush white in midday
shadow, and the horse suddenly pricked his ears. Unguided, he was taking
this advantage to go home. Though he had made but little way--a mere
beginning yet--on this trail over to Sunk Creek, here was already a
Sunk Creek friend whinnying good day to him, so he whinnied back and
quickened his pace, and Molly started to life. What was Monte doing
here? She saw the black horse she knew also, saddled, with reins
dragging on the trail as the rider had dropped them to dismount. A cold
spring bubbled out beyond the next rock, and she knew her lover's horse
was waiting for him while he drank. She pulled at the reins, but loosed
them, for to turn and escape now was ridiculous; and riding boldly round
the rock, she came upon him by the spring. One of his arms hung up to
its elbow in the pool, the other was crooked beside his head, but the
face was sunk downward against the shelving rock, so that she saw only
his black, tangled hair. As her horse snorted and tossed his head she
looked swiftly at Monte, as if to question him. Seeing now the sweat
matted on his coat, and noting the white rim of his eye, she sprang and
ran to the motionless figure. A patch of blood at his shoulder behind
stained the soft flannel shirt, spreading down beneath his belt, and the
man's whole strong body lay slack and pitifully helpless.

She touched the hand beside his head, but it seemed neither warm nor
cold to her; she felt for the pulse, as nearly as she could remember the
doctors did, but could not tell whether she imagined or not that it was
still; twice with painful care her fingers sought