his position once more, "I haf follow
thees girl and thee horse. I haf see thee place where she's goin'--you
know." And he winked foxily. "And then I haf coom to thees place, two,
three times after thee horse. But always thee man is there. But thees
mornin' I'm seein' thot _hombre_ in town, and so I haf go gettin'
you to coom help me. But you haf steal seex dolars. I'm forgettin'
thot--not! And if you say soomt'ing to soombody soomtime, I'm havin' you
arrested, Franke, for a t'ief and a robber--same as I ought to arrest
thot Pedro Garcia oop in the canyon."

Franke maintained discreet silence. But not for long. Evidently he
suddenly thought of a point in his own favor.

"You' havin' good luck thees time, Felipe," he declared, tranquilly,
"especially," he hastened to add, "when I'm t'inkin' of thee halter.
Without thee halter, you know, you don' gettin' thees _caballo_."

Felipe ignored this. "I haf need a horse," he went on, thoughtfully.
"Thee mot'er of thees black fel'r--you know, thot's thee mot'er--she's
gettin' old all time. She's soon dyin', thot _caballo_. Thees black
horse he's makin' a fine one in thees wagon." Franke said nothing. Nor
did Felipe speak again. And thus, in silence, they continued across the
mesa and on up the canyon to the little adobe in the settlement. Arrived
before the house, Franke quickly disappeared in the direction of his
home, leaving Felipe to unhitch and unharness alone. But Felipe cared
nothing for this. He was supremely happy--happy in the return of the
long-lost colt, doubly happy in the possession of so fine a horse
without outlay of money. Whistling blithely, he unhitched the team, led
them back into the corral, returned to the wagon again. Here, still
whistling, he untied the black and escorted him also into the inclosure.
Then, after scratching his head a long moment in thought, he set out in
the direction of the general store and a bottle of _vino_.

As the man disappeared, Pat, standing uncertainly in the middle of the
corral, followed him with a look in his eyes that hinted of vague
memories that would not down. And well he might be flicked with vague
memories. For he was at last returned to the brief cradle of his
babyhood.

Late that same afternoon, Helen, attired in riding-habit, left the house
for her first afternoon canter. As she slowly crossed the _patio_,
she noted the absence of Pat from his usual corner, but, assuming that
he was inside the stable, called to h