The grind began to tell upon him. As he trotted along, thirst-stricken, miserably nourished, weary from loss of sleep and this ceaseless toil, he sought frankly for cause to rebel, as he had done in the first hour of this strange call to new duty. And he found it. He found it not only in the man’s weight, and the infrequent contact of spurs, and the tight grip on the reins, all as on that first occasion, but he found it as well in other things–in the dust thrown up by the little gray ahead, in the sun’s rays slanting into his eyes from the west, in the scorching, blistering heat of this same ruthless orb beating down upon his back. Suddenly, cost him what it would, he dropped out of the fox-trot into a walk, prepared to fight for this change of stride to the last breath.

He did not hold to it, however, even though his master, curiously enough, permitted him the change. Pride asserted itself, and after a time, of his own volition, finding the gap between himself and the others much too wide to please him, he broke into a canter and quickly closed the gap, crowding back into his place between the other two horses. That was all of rebellion, though the mood still remained. Bitter, disappointed, nervous, and irritable, he continued forward, wanting things–wanting food and water, wanting sounds of voices, wanting a respite from this unnerving grind. But he made no effort to get them or to show that he wanted them. And he knew why he maintained this attitude of meek acceptance. He was too weak to enforce his demands. He knew that it required energy to buck and pitch, and he knew that he lacked this energy. So he continued along in sullen resignation until, accepting the hint of his instincts, he closed his eyes. This brought relief, and after a time, his movements becoming ever more mechanical, he found himself adrift upon a peaceful sea of semi-coma, oblivious to all trouble–hunger pangs, thirst, weariness. When he returned to full consciousness, somewhat refreshed and fit for farther distances, he found the sun well down the western sky, the cool of evening wrapping him about in delightful zephyrs, and he was still keeping his place between the two horses.

Dusk found him in a small oasis. His master slipped to earth, and with relief Pat gazed about him. He saw a clump of trees, and in their depths, glinting out at him between the trunks, a shimmering pool of water. Also, near these trees, on the edge of the grove, he saw a shack made up of rough logs. But he was interested only in the pool, and, when his master removed his saddle, eagerly and with a soft nicker he stepped toward it. But the man jerked him back. So he waited, realizing that he had been hasty, till his bridle was removed, when again he stepped toward the pool. But again he was jerked back, this time by a firm grip on his forelock. So again he waited while the man placed the disagreeable rope around his neck. With this secure, he found himself led into the grove, where he soon was quenching his raging thirst, and where, after drinking, he felt more kindly not only toward the man, but toward the whole world. When he was conducted back into the open, and the end of the rope made fast to a stake, he lifted his voice in a shrill nicker proclaiming his satisfaction. Then he stood very still, watching the man enter the shack, utterly absorbed in getting that long-delayed reward of sugar and quartered apples.

But again he waited in vain. The man did not reappear; indeed, none of the men reappeared. So after a time, swallowing his disappointment, he turned his eyes upon the other horses. As at noon, they were grazing industriously, and he knew what was in store for him. He regarded them a long moment, trying to bring himself to graze also, but finding that his knowledge of better things would not permit him. Yet there was one pleasant surprise. The little gray, sounding a soft whinny, made her way slowly toward him. This was unexpected friendliness, for the horse had seemed hostile earlier, and he promptly showed his pleasure by licking her neck with lavish attention. And though he found her coat gritty with dust, he continued this generous attention till she lowered her head and resumed her grazing. This reminded him of his own fierce hunger, and he promptly lowered his own head, following her example with a kind of gratitude, and fell to grazing with her, finding in her interest the one ray of light in all the darkness of his distress and continued disappointment. And thus he fed, keeping with her to the limits of his tether, until, soon after the candlelight had whisked out in the shack, she lay down in the yielding sand with a restful sigh. Pat understood this, but he regarded it with uncertainty, knowing that he himself with the coming of night always had protection in a stable. Then, deciding that it was right and fitting, especially as the sorrel also sank into the sand, he himself bent his knees and lay down to rest in the warmth of the desert.

But his lesson in the open was not yet fully learned. Next morning, with the other horses astir, and with the men moving in and out of the shack, he saw his master coming toward him. Reaching him, the man untied the rope from the stake, led him to the pool of water, and permitted him to drink. Then he returned him to the open, and there removed the rope from him entirely. But despite this he found that he was not free from suspicion. For now the man tied a short rope around his fore ankles, and strode back into the shack, leaving him, as before, to his own devices.

Half expecting the man to return with sugar and apples, Pat watched him take himself off with mild anticipation. But as the man did not return he bethought him after a time of his sterner hunger, and took prompt step in the direction of a tuft of grass. Instantly he felt a sharp twitch at his ankles and fell headlong. For a moment he lay dazed, utterly at a loss to understand, thrashing about frantically in futile effort to regain his feet. Then he became calm again, and brought craftiness instead of brute force to bear upon the trouble. He regained his feet. Then he studied the cause of the disaster, and finally stepped out again, cautiously now, having learned his lesson. So he did not stumble. But he did feel the check around his ankles again. Steadying himself, he saw clearly the cause of his previous discomfiture, but he did not accept it as defeat. Casting his eyes toward the other horses, he awoke to the fact that they, as well as himself, were hobbled. Watching them, studying them, he finally saw one rear, strike out with his front legs, and draw his hind legs up to meet the advance. So that was it! He now knew what he himself must do. Feeling out his hobbles carefully, gathering quick courage the while, he himself at length reared, struck out with fore legs, followed up with hind legs, and found himself directly over the tuft of grass. This was pleasant, and he promptly began to nibble it, finding it no less toothsome–perhaps more toothsome–for the effort. And when he had finished this he gazed about for others, and, seeing others, moved upon each in turn as he had moved upon the first, rearing and striking, following it with hind legs, rearing and striking again, following again with hind legs, all successfully. And so he learned his second great lesson in the open.

Thus he began his life in the desert. Fraught as it was with much discomfort, both spiritual and physical, he yet found much of interest in it all, and he was destined to find in it, as time went on, much more of even greater interest. And in the days which followed, and the weeks and months following these, because he showed that he was willing and anxious to learn, to attune himself to the life, he aroused in all who came in contact with him, men as well as horses, an esteem and affection which made life smoother and more pleasant for him than it might otherwise have been.

CHAPTER XIV
A PICTURE

A hundred miles west from the shack, stretching away from it in an almost unbroken expanse, was a desert within the desert. Amole and sagebrush and cactus vied with each other to relieve the dead, flat, monotonous brown. Without movement anywhere, save for the heat-waves ascending, this expanse presented an unutterably drear and lonesome aspect. It terminated, or partly terminated–swerving off into the south beyond–in a long sand-dune running northeast and southwest. This mighty roll lay brooding, as did the world-old expanse fringing it, in the silence of late morning. Overhead a turquoise sky, low, spotless, likewise brooding, dipped down gracefully to the horizon around–a horizon like an immense girdle, a girdle which, as one journeyed along, seemed to accompany him, rapidly if he moved rapidly, slowly if he moved slowly–an immense circle of which he was the center. The sun was glaring, and revealed here and there out of the drifts a bleached skeleton, mutely proclaiming the sun as overlord, while over all, around and about and within this throbbing furnace, there seemed to lurk a voice, a voice of but a softly lisped word–solitude.