But Felipe only sneered. “How I know thot?” he asked, disdainfully. “I’m joost tellin’ you! I know! Thot’s enough! A horse is a horse! And I know thees horse! I know every horse! I got only to see a horse once–once only–and I’m never forgettin’ thot horse! And I’m makin’ no meestake now–bet you’ life!” Nevertheless, flicked with doubt because of the gravity of the other, he turned his head and gazed back at the horse long and earnestly. Finally he turned around again. “I know thot horse!” he yelled. “And I’m tellin’ you thees, Franke,” he went on, suddenly belligerent toward the other. “If you don’ t’ink I’m gettin’ thee right caballo, I have you arrested for stealin’ thot seex dolars thot time! Money is money, too. But a horse is a horse. I know thees horse. Thot’s enough!” Yet he relapsed into a moody silence, puffing thoughtfully on his cigarette.
Behind the outfit, Pat continued along docilely. In a way he was enjoying this strange journey across the mesa. It was all very new to him, this manner of crossing, this being tied to the rear of a wagon, and he found himself pleasantly mystified. Nor was that all. Not once had he felt called upon to rebel. In perfect contentment he followed the rigging, eyes upon the outhanging reach, for he was intent upon maintaining safe distance between this thing and himself. Once, when they were mounting up to the mesa, he had met with a sharp blow from this projection–due to sudden change of gait in the horses–and he only required the one lesson to be ever after careful. As for the men forward, he knew nothing of them, and never, to his knowledge, had seen them before. But in no way was he concerning himself about them. Nor, indeed, was he worrying over any part of this proceeding. For in his dumb animal way he was coming to know, as all dumb servants of man come to know, that life, after all, is service, a kind of self-effacing series of tasks in the interests of others, and that this ambling along behind the vehicle was but one of the many kinds.
“And,” suddenly broke out Felipe, who, having threshed the matter out to his satisfaction, now felt sure of his position once more, “I haf follow thees girl and thee horse. I haf see thee place where she’s goin’–you know.” And he winked foxily. “And then I haf coom to thees place, two, three times after thee horse. But always thee man is there. But thees mornin’ I’m seein’ thot hombre in town, and so I haf go gettin’ you to coom help me. But you haf steal seex dolars. I’m forgettin’ thot–not! And if you say soomt’ing to soombody soomtime, I’m havin’ you arrested, Franke, for a t’ief and a robber–same as I ought to arrest thot Pedro Garcia oop in the canyon.”
Franke maintained discreet silence. But not for long. Evidently he suddenly thought of a point in his own favor.
“You’ havin’ good luck thees time, Felipe,” he declared, tranquilly, “especially,” he hastened to add, “when I’m t’inkin’ of thee halter. Without thee halter, you know, you don’ gettin’ thees caballo.”
Felipe ignored this. “I haf need a horse,” he went on, thoughtfully. “Thee mot’er of thees black fel’r–you know, thot’s thee mot’er–she’s gettin’ old all time. She’s soon dyin’, thot caballo. Thees black horse he’s makin’ a fine one in thees wagon.” Franke said nothing. Nor did Felipe speak again. And thus, in silence, they continued across the mesa and on up the canyon to the little adobe in the settlement. Arrived before the house, Franke quickly disappeared in the direction of his home, leaving Felipe to unhitch and unharness alone. But Felipe cared nothing for this. He was supremely happy–happy in the return of the long-lost colt, doubly happy in the possession of so fine a horse without outlay of money. Whistling blithely, he unhitched the team, led them back into the corral, returned to the wagon again. Here, still whistling, he untied the black and escorted him also into the inclosure. Then, after scratching his head a long moment in thought, he set out in the direction of the general store and a bottle of vino.
As the man disappeared, Pat, standing uncertainly in the middle of the corral, followed him with a look in his eyes that hinted of vague memories that would not down. And well he might be flicked with vague memories. For he was at last returned to the brief cradle of his babyhood.
Late that same afternoon, Helen, attired in riding-habit, left the house for her first afternoon canter. As she slowly crossed the patio, she noted the absence of Pat from his usual corner, but, assuming that he was inside the stable, called to him from the gate. But she received no answering whinny. Slightly worried, she entered the corral and stepped to the stable door, and again sounded his name. Again she received no answering whinny. She entered the stable, walked past the stalls, peered in at each with increasing alarm. Only the saddle-horse and the family horse met her troubled eyes. She stood for a moment dismayed, then once more she sounded the horse’s name. But, as before, she received no answering whinny.
Puzzled, perplexed, troubled with misgivings, yet refusing to believe the worst, she fell to analyzing the thing. She knew that since coming to the ranch Pat at no time had been outside the corral save in her charge. Also she recalled that only a short hour or two before she had given him sweets and had talked with him. Nor could the horse have strayed out of the inclosure, because she remembered that the gate was latched when she had reached it. All these facts flashed across her as she stood with grave eyes sweeping the stable. Finally she stepped back to the door and gazed out into the sunlight of the corral; but, as before, the inclosure was empty and silent, and now, somehow, forbidding. She called again–called to the horse, called to the Mexican. But again came only the echo of her voice, sounding hollow and solemn and plaintive through the stable.
Suddenly her heart stopped beating. She remembered that the hostler had left for town on foot early in the morning. And now her fears broke bounds. The horse was gone! Some one had come in Miguel’s absence. Her Pat had been stolen! He was gone for ever out of her life! Standing a moment, trembling with bitterness, she darted out of the stable, out of the corral, across the patio. She sped into the house and her father’s study, caught up the receiver of the telephone.