Stall-fed and groomed to a satin-smooth
glow, stabled and protected from the rains--pets, in Pete's
estimation--yet he knew that they would run until they dropped, holding
that long, even stride to the very end. He reached out and patted his
horse on the neck. Instantly the sensitive ears twitched and the
stride lengthened. Pete tightened rein gently. "A quirt would only
make him crazy," he thought; and he grinned as he saw that Brevoort's
horse had let out a link or two to catch up with its mate.
The low sun, touching the rim of the desert, flung long crimson shafts
heavenward--in hues of rose and amethyst, against the deep umber and
the purple of far spaces. From monotonous and burning desolation the
desert had become a vast momentary solitude of changing beauty and
enchantment. Then all at once the colors vanished, space shrank, and
occasional stars trembled in the velvet roof of the night. And one
star, brighter than the rest, grew gradually larger, until it became a
solitary camp-fire on the level of the plain.
"Don't like the looks of that," said Brevoort, as he pulled up his
horse.
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