on the white horse rode behind, a man lost in a dream. They rode

one after another, the man with the silver bridle led the way,

and they spoke never a word. After a time it came to the little man

on the white horse that the world was very still. He started out

of his dream. Besides the little noises of their horses and equipment,

the whole great valley kept the brooding quiet of a painted scene.



Before him went his master and his fellow, each intently leaning

forward to the left, each impassively moving with the paces of his

horse; their shadows went before them--still, noiseless, tapering

attendants; and nearer a crouched cool shape was his own. He looked

about him. What was it had gone? Then he remembered the reverberation

from the banks of the gorge and the perpetual accompaniment of

shifting, jostling pebbles. And, moreover--? There was no breeze.

That was it! What a vast, still place it was, a monotonous afternoon

slumber. And the sky open and blank, except for a sombre veil of haze

that had gathered in the upper valley.



He straightened his back, fretted with his bridle, puckered his lips

to whistle, and simply sighed. He turned in his saddle for a time,

and stared at the throat of the mountain gorge out of which they

had come. Blank! Blank slopes on either side, with never a sign

of a decent beast or tree--much less a man. What a land it was!

What a wilderness! He dropped again into his former pose.



It filled him with a momentary pleasure to see a wry stick of purple

black flash out into the form of a snake, and vanish amidst the brown.

After all, the infernal valley WAS alive. And then, to rejoice him

still more, came a little breath across his face, a whisper that

came and went, the faintest inclination of a stiff black-antlered

bush upon a little crest, the first intimations of a possible breeze.

Idly he wetted his finger, and held it up.



He pulled up sharply to avoid a collision with the gaunt man, who

had stopped at fault upon the trail. Just at that guilty moment

he caught his master's eye looking towards him.



For a time he forced an interest in the tracking. Then, as they rode

on again, he studied his master's shadow and hat and shoulder,

appearing and disappearing behind the gaunt man's nearer contours.

They had ridden four days out of the very limits of the world into

this desolate place, short of water, with nothing but a strip

of dried meat under their saddles, over rocks and mountains,

where surely none but these fugitives had ever been before--for THAT!



And all this was for a girl, a mere wilful child! And the man

had whole cityfuls of people to do his basest bidding--girls, women!

Why in the name of passionate folly THIS one in particular? asked

the little man, and scowled at the world, and licked his parched lips

with a blackened tongue. It was the way of the master, and that



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