retted that he had asked.
Well, something had to be done, and done quickly. Could he but feel sure
of his direction, he might place this unfortunate upon Pat and walk with
him to the railroad town, where proper medical and surgical attendance
could be obtained. But this he was unable to do, since he fully realized
he was astray.

"Brother," he suddenly explained, "I was headed, myself, toward the
railroad. A little before dark I lost my way. Do you happen to know--"

"Sit down," interrupted the other, faintly. "I've been--been lost--a
week."

Stephen sat down thoughtfully. All hope of serving the man for the
present was gone. He must wait till daybreak at least. Then somebody or
something might appear to show him the way out. He thought of the ranch
wagon, and of Buddy's offer, and it occurred to him that unless he was
too far off the regular course he might attract Buddy. It was a chance,
anyway.

"I've been 'most dead, too, for a week," suddenly began the other. "I
'ain't eat regularly, for one thing--'most a month of that, I reckon.
Been times, too, when I couldn't--couldn't find water. I didn't know the
country over here. Had to change--change horses a couple times, too.
Because--" He checked himself. "I made a mistake--the last horse. He
give me all--all that was comin'--"

A nicker from Pat interrupted him. Stephen felt him cringe. Directly he
felt something else. It was a cold hand groping to find his own. The
whole thing was queer, uncanny, and he was glad when the man went on.

"Did--did you hear that?" breathed the fellow, a note of suppressed
terror in his voice. "Did you hear it, friend? Tell me!" His voice was
shrill now.

Stephen reassured him, explaining that it was his horse. But a long time
the man held fast, fingers gripping his hand, as if he did not believe,
and was listening to make sure. At length he relaxed, and Stephen, still
seated close beside him, heard him sink back into the sand.

"I was getting away from--from--Oh, well, it don't--don't make any
difference." The fellow was silent. "I needed a--a horse," he continued,
finally. "My own--the third since--since--my own had played out. I was
near a ranch, and--and it was night, and I--I seen a corral with a horse
standing in it--a gray. It was moonlight. I--I got the gate open, and
I--I roped him, and--" He interrupted himself, was upon one elbow again.
"It was a stallion--a cross-bred, maybe--and--and say, friend, he rode
me to death!