“How’s that hoss a-holdin’, Jim?”
Pat felt a slight twitch on the reins. Evidently the man had been in deep thought, out of which the voice had startled him. Directly he made answer.
“I got quality here, Glover–I guess. Can’t never tell, though. He’s a good horse, but he mayn’t pan out good for me.”
“Johnson,” went on the high-pitched voice again, after a time, “did ye git what Zeke said about the country down there?”
But the leader seemed not to hear. Straight as an arrow, bulking large upon a little gray mare, he moved not the fraction of an inch with the question. Whereupon the little man, after muttering something further about Zeke, relapsed into silence.
Suddenly Pat stumbled and fell to his knees. He quickly regained his feet, however, and resumed the steady forward grind. And grind it now was becoming. His legs burned with a strange distress, his eyes ached from loss of sleep. Throughout his body was a weariness new to him. He was not accustomed to this ceaseless fox-trotting. He could not recall the time when, even on their longest excursion, his mistress had forced him like this. She had always considered him to the extent of granting him many blissful periods of rest. He found himself wanting some such consideration now. He felt that he would like to drop into a walk or to burst into a canter, knowing the relief to be found in any change of gait. But this was denied him. Yet, since the other horses gave no sign of weariness, each appearing possessed of endurance greater than his own, he refrained, through a pride greater even than his distress, from making of his own accord any change in his gait.
Toward noon, as he was brooding over another distress, one caused by gnawing hunger, he felt his master draw down. Also, the others came to a stop. With the men dismounted, he swept eyes over the scene. But he saw nothing that appeared to warrant pause. The place was dead and desolate, barren of all that which had invariably met his gaze when pausing with his mistress. But when one of the men began to build a fire, while the others flung off light saddle-bags from the little gray and the sorrel–an exceptionally rangy horse–he came in a way to understand. Further, with the fire crackling pleasantly and his bridle and saddle removed, he understood fully the cause of this halt. It was time to feed; and, raging with hunger, he forgot all other distress in the thought that now he would have a generous quantity of food, which he believed was due him, since he had more than earned it in his prolonged service through the night. Indeed, so certain was he of reward, he prepared himself for sugar and quartered apples, and, with mouth dripping saliva, stood very still, eyes following every move of his new master.
But he was doomed to bitter disappointment. Instead of sugar and quartered apples, his master tied a rope around his neck and, with a friendly slap, left him to his own devices. Wondering at this, he gazed about him–saw that the other horses were grazing. Disappointed, fretful, stung into action by hunger pangs, he set out in their direction, curious to learn what it was they were feeding upon so eagerly. But, as had happened the night before, he found himself checked with a jerk. He did not like it, for it made him conscious again of his master’s suspicions. So he turned a sour gaze upon his unrestricted companions until, forced to it by inner yearnings amounting to acuteness now, he himself lowered his head and fell to grazing.
But he found it all too insufficient. His stomach urgently demanded grain and alfalfa. And he yearned for a little bran-mash. But there were none of these. He saw not even a tiny morsel of flower to appease his inner grumblings, and finally, lifting his head in a kind of disgust, he ceased to graze altogether. As he did so, the men made ready to resume the journey, replacing bridles and saddles and saddle-bags. Pat found himself hopeful again, believing that with the end of this prolonged service, which in view of the distance already traversed must be soon, he would have those things for which his body and soul cried out. And thus he set forth, occupying his former place in the order of advance, moving, as before, at a fox-trot and amid silence from the men. He was still hopeful of better things to come. But it was all a drear experience.