ep, quivering sigh. Felix knew that she loved
the little horse, too, and, so he sometimes thought, she was herself
so weary that she often longed to lie down beside the trail and perish
as the tired dumb animals did. She had never made complaint before,
but to-night, perhaps appalled by the thought of the mountains still
to be crossed, she burst out into fierce questioning:

"Abner, why don't we turn back? What is it all for? Can gold, all the
gold we could ever gather, repay us for this terrible journey? We are
little more than halfway and the worst is still before us. We could go
back while there is still time. Why do we go on?"

Abner, spreading his big hands upon his knees, sat staring into the
fire.

"I don't know," he said at last, "I vow I don't know. It is not the
excitement, nor the gold that drives us, there is no telling what it
may be. Our country must go on, she must press forward to new
opportunities, she must dwell in new places. It is through people like
us that such growth comes about, we don't ourselves know why. A little
ambition, a little hope, a great blind impulse, and we go forward.
That is all."

They sat very still while the fire died out into charring embers and
darkness filled the wide sky above them, showing the whole circling
march of the stars like a sky at sea.

"We must be moving," Abner said at last, "we can make a few miles more
before it is time to sleep."

They all arose wearily and made ready to go on. Felix went to where
the black mare lay and passed his hand down her smooth neck. She
whinnied and thrust her soft nose against his cheek, but would make no
effort to move. He stood for a moment thinking deeply. Very clearly
did he understand Abner's unreasoning desire to go forward, but,
perhaps because he was only a boy, he did not feel that same wish so
completely and passionately. There were other ideas in his mind, and
uppermost among them was the feeling that one can not desert a
well-loved friend. Just as the foremost wagon creaked into motion and
rumbled forward into the dark, his resolution found its way into
words.

"I think I will stay with the mare," he said. "In three days at least
she will be rested enough to go on, and then I can easily overtake
you. We don't want to lose her." He tried to hide the depth of his
feeling with commonplace words. "It wouldn't be sensible, when we have
so few horses."

Abner did not consent willingly, but he agreed at last.

"She'