228
XX. FIDELITY 240
XXI. LIFE AND DEATH 256
XXII. QUIESCENCE 280
XXIII. THE REUNION 285

BRED OF THE DESERT

CHAPTER I

A COLT IS BORN

It was high noon in the desert, but there was no dazzling sunlight. Over
the earth hung a twilight, a yellow-pink softness that flushed across
the sky like the approach of a shadow, covering everything yet
concealing nothing, creeping steadily onward, yet seemingly still,
until, pressing low over the earth, it took on changing color, from pink
to gray, from gray to black--gloom that precedes tropical showers. Then
the wind came--a breeze rising as it were from the hot earth--forcing
the Spanish dagger to dipping acknowledgment, sending dust-devils
swirling across the slow curves of the desert--and then the storm burst
in all its might. For this was a storm--a sand-storm of the Southwest.

Down the slopes to the west billowed giant clouds of sand. At the bottom
these clouds tumbled and surged and mounted, and then, resuming their
headlong course, swept across the flat land bordering the river, hurtled
across the swollen Rio Grande itself, and so on up the gentle rise of
ground to the town, where they swung through the streets in ruthless
strides--banging signs, ripping up roofings, snapping off branches--and
then lurched out over the mesa to the east. Here, as if in glee over
their escape from city confines, they redoubled in fury and tore down to
earth--and enveloped Felipe Montoya, a young and good-looking Mexican,
and his team of scrawny horses plodding in a lumber rigging, all in a
stinging swirl.

"Haya!" cried Felipe, as the first of the sand-laden winds struck him,
"Chivos--chivos!" And he shot out his whip, gave the lash a twist over
the off mare, and brought it down with a resounding thwack. "R-run!" he
snarled, and again brought the whip down upon the emaciated mare. "You
joost natural lazy! Thees storm--we--we get-tin'--" His voice was
carried away on the swirling winds.

But the horses seemed not to hear the man; nor, in the case of the off
mare, to feel the bite of his lash. They continued to plod along the
beaten trail, heads drooping, ears flopping, hoofs scuffling
disconsolately. Felipe, accompanying each outburst with a mighty swing
of his whip, swore and pleaded an