At this moment the clerk in the hotel was aroused by the unusual spectacle of one of his guests–young Wainwright–leaping down the stairs. He looked up with a surprised question. But Stephen ran past him, across the office, without heed. He gained the door, rushed down the steps, and shouted. The boys ceased playing, a passer-by came to a stop, out of the saloon opposite stepped Miguel. Miguel hastened across, drawing his hand over his mouth as he ran. Stephen opened upon him breathlessly.
“He’s gone!” he burst out. “I saw it from my window. A young man in blue shirt and overalls. The horse has been stolen!”
Miguel threw up both hands in despair. “Valgame Dios!” he cried. “I am lose my job!” He looked about him blankly.
Sick at heart, not knowing what to do, Stephen himself bolted back into the hotel. He entered the telephone booth and rang up the Judge’s office. It was late, but he took a chance. The Judge answered the call. His voice was weary with the strain of a long day.
“Who in thunder wants me at this hour?” he drawled, not unpleasantly. “Can’t you let a man–”
Stephen interrupted with an apology. Then he told the Judge of the loss. The Judge’s voice changed instantly.
“Fine business!” he snapped. “But I reckon I know who to look for. There’s only one man–one gang–in the Territory that would do that in that way. It’s a job for the range police.” Then his voice softened. “Don’t worry, Stephen!” he added. “You just sit tight. I’ll take it up with the authorities.”
Stephen left the booth and entered the writing-room. Here he added a sad postscript to his note to Helen. Then he went outside, despatched Miguel with the letter, returned to his room and sat down, disconsolate and angry.
To have Pat sent to him with this noble generosity, and then to lose him! Surely fate was more than unkind. The horse, given into his keeping, had been wrested from him at once. Yes, he was all that Helen had intimated that he was–a man incapable of trust, a man such as she could never permit herself–and he recalled her words now with rankling bitterness–to care for in the way he wanted her to care for him. Knowing that Pat was gone from him, and gone in such ignoble fashion, he knew that he never could face the horse’s mistress again. This was bitterest of all! For a time he gave way to despair.
Presently he awoke to a sense of stern responsibility. The horse had been delivered. Miguel had safely delivered him. It was all up to him then, Stephen, and to nobody else. He alone was responsible, and it was his duty to get Pat back. Out of his self-doubting this realization came with a sense of comfort. His course now lay clearly before him. He would get the horse back! He must get him back! There was nothing else left for him. For if he ever expected to return to Helen, and this was his life’s hope, he must return to her with the horse. He could return to her in no other way.