ay listlessly smiling at the bantering of the men, too sick
at heart really to take interest in any living thing. His arm pained
him, and his head ached, while throughout his body he was sore and stiff
and well-nigh incapable of moving. But not once following the first
complete collapse did he let go of himself, although when the men set
his arm it seemed that he must. Somehow he was contented that everything
was as it was. True, he was hurt. But also he had found Pat, had
recovered the horse for Helen, and the horse now was within sound of his
voice, did he but care to lift it. His physical hurts would get well,
his spiritual hurts never without the recovery of the horse. And now he
had the horse.

One morning it became apparent that their food-supplies would soon need
replenishing. So it was decided to break camp for the nearest town, a
Mexican settlement some eighty miles to the southwest. Stephen had been
walking about somewhat cheerfully for three or four days, and his
condition was such that he could ride forward slowly without danger to
his arm. So they broke camp, utilizing the sorrel as a pack-horse--there
now were two extra saddles and bridles--and set out, Stephen, of course,
mounted upon Pat.

Once more Pat found himself following an unmarked and desolate trail.
Moving always at a walk now instead of the conventional fox-trot, he
found his service, save for this and one other thing, identical with
that under his previous masters. The single other difference was that
instead of irritating silence, these men unwittingly soothed him with
their talk and swift exchange of jokes. Thus the hours passed, until
noon came, when, with his bridle and saddle removed, and pungent odors
of savory cooking tickling his nostrils, he received the privilege of
grazing over the whole desert unhobbled and untethered. But this,
liberal as it seemed, brought him nothing of the nourishment his soul
craved. After an hour or two of lazy wandering, while the men passed the
time at cards, he was sent forward again along the ever-mysterious
trail. And thus he moved, through the long hot afternoon, the cool and
lingering twilight, on to a night camp where once more he was turned
loose with the other horses to glean as best he might life-giving
sustenance from the scant herbage. But it was drearily monotonous.

Throughout it all, however, there was one who kept his interest alive.
It was the white horse. In the camp holding himself aloof