ing again
complacently.

"Whence come you?" asked Stephen, after a time.

The other slowly removed his pipe. Then he told him. Then Stephen spoke.
And then the man rose stiffly, crossed solemnly to him and shook hands
with him cordially.

"I knowed you was white the fust day I see you," he declared. Then he
waved a vague hand over the others. "They've all--all of 'em--traveled
that way. I was raised--"

A sudden shrill scream out in the darkness interrupted him. It was a
horse. The cry stirred the entire camp. The Professor arose, sauntered
out, whistling, whirled, and called back sharply. The others ran toward
him; the large man struck a match. The white horse was limping on three
legs. They bent over and examined the fourth. The match went out. All
straightened up. As they did so Pat sounded a shrill nicker.

"Busted!" exclaimed the large man, quietly. "Well, I'm a goat! That
black horse has kicked old Tom clear over the divide. I--I'm clean done!
Quick as lightning, too! No preambles; no circumlocutions; no nothing.
Just put it to him. Good Lord!" Then he regretfully drew a revolver. "I
reckon you boys better stand back."

A shot broke the quiet, and the desert shivered and was still again. The
white horse sank to the ground. Stephen walked to Pat, struck a match,
and looked him over critically. Pat was torn and bleeding in two places
along the neck, but otherwise he needed no attention. Stephen patted him
thoughtfully, gratefully, fighting the horror of what might have been
had this splendid horse weakened in the crisis. No wonder the little
girl in the valley worshiped him.

But he said nothing. After a time he returned to the fire and sat down
among a very sober group of men. Presently the man with the scrubby
beard broke the quiet. His voice sounded hollow and distressed.

"I knowed it," he declared. "Though I thought old Tom 'u'd done better."
He began to roll a cigarette. "Pore old Tom! He's killed; he's
dead--dead and gone." With the cigarette made, he snatched a brand from
the fire and lighted it. He fell to smoking in thoughtful silence, in
his eyes a look of unutterable sadness.

The Professor bestirred himself. "Tell me," he asked, lifting his gaze
to the heavens reflectively--"tell me, does any of you believe that
horses--any animiles--has souls?"

The lean man glanced at him. His eyes now had the look of one anxious to
express his views, but cautiously refused to be baited. Finally he made
a