I got on him before I knowed what he was. Bareback. He shot
out of that corral like he was crazy. But I--I managed to hold--hold to
him and--if he'd only bucked me off! But he didn't. He just raced for
it--tore across the country like a cyclone. He rode me to death, a
hundred miles, I bet, without a stop. And I held on--couldn't let
go--was afraid to let go." He was silent. "Are you--you dead sure,
friend, that was your horse?"

Stephen again reassured him, realizing the fear upon the man and now
understanding it. But he said nothing.

"And then somewhere off here he throwed me," went on the man. "But
he--he was a raving maniac. He turned on me before I could get up, and
bit and kicked and trampled me till I didn't know nothing--was asleep,
or something. When I came to--woke up--he was still hanging around. He's
around here yet! I heard him all day--yesterday! He's off there to the
east somewheres. He's--he's looking for me. I kept still whenever I'd
see him or hear him, and then when he'd move off out of sight, or
quit--quit his nickering, I'd crawl along some more. I'm--I'm done,
stranger," he concluded, weakly, dropping over upon his back. "I'm done,
and I know it. And it was that horse that--that--" He was silent.

Stephen did not speak. He could not speak after this fearsome tale. Its
pictures haunted him. He could see this poor fellow racing across the
desert, clinging for life to that which meant death. His own condition
had been brought about through a horse, a horse and wild rides at a time
when he should have been, as this unfortunate undoubtedly should have
been, in bed under medical care. For a moment he thought he would tell
him a tale of misery equal to his own, in the hope that he might turn
him from thoughts of his own misfortunes. But before he could speak the
other broke in upon his thoughts with a shrill outcry. He had raised
himself upon one elbow again, and now was pointing toward the eastern
sky.

"Look!" he cried. "Look off there!"

Stephen turned his eyes in the direction of the pointing finger. He saw
a faint light breaking through the black dome of the sky. As he watched
it, it trickled out steadily, like slow-spreading water, filtering
slowly through dense banks of clouds, folding them back like the shutter
of a giant camera, until the whole eastern sky was a field of gray
clouds with frosty edges, between which, coming majestically forward
through the green-white billow, appeared finall