he courtyard to comfort--was so strong that he would not
have had strength to resist had he not realized that the ride back
would be longer than the ride on to water. He made no answer to
Conniston's sallies, but, sullenly silent, clung to his reins with one
hand, to the horn of his saddle with the other, lifting his head now
and again to gaze with red-rimmed eyes ahead along the dusty, flat
stretch of the desert, for the most part head down, the picture of
misery.

Conniston, feeling the heat riotous in his own veins, feeling the ache
of fatigued muscles, felt a sudden pity for Hapgood. And still, even
through his own discomfort, there laughed always a certain something
in his buoyant nature which saw the humorous in the adventure.

It was late in the forenoon when they saw a clump of green willows,
and ten minutes later came to a roadside spring and watering-trough.
Hapgood threw an aching leg over the horn of his saddle and slipped
stiffly to the ground. Conniston dismounted after him, holding the two
horses' reins as they thrust their dry muzzles deep into the clear
water. Hapgood, applying his mouth to the pipe from which the water
ran into the trough, drank long and thirstily, and then, dragging his
feet heavily, went to the clump of willows and dropped to the ground
in their shade.

"We've done thirty miles, anyway," said Conniston, cheerily, when he,
too, had drunk. "Twenty miles farther to the hills, and--"

Hapgood, his head between his hands, groaned.

"Twenty miles farther and I'll be dead. I couldn't eat any of that
infernal mess last night, and I couldn't eat beefsteak and mashed
potatoes this morning. And I've got pains through me now in a dozen
places. I wish--"

He broke off suddenly. There was little use to tell what he wished: a
cool club-room on Broadway; a deep, soft leather chair; a waiter to
bring him delicate dishes and cool drinks.

For an hour they sat in the shade resting. Then Conniston got to his
feet and threw his reins over his horse's head.

"Come on, Roger," he said, quietly, the unusual gentleness of his tone
showing the pity he felt. "We can't stay here all day."

Hapgood rose wordlessly and walked stiffly to his horse. He cursed it
roundly when it jerked back from him, and for five minutes he strove
to mount. The animal, high strung and restless, was frightened, first
at his lunging gait, then at his loud, angry voice, and jerked away
from him each time that he tried to get