her way. But Casey
would not permit that, naturally. Nor did he wonder why William acted so
queerly. You never wonder why a mule does things; you just fight it out
and are satisfied if you win, and let it go at that.

Casey does not remember clearly the details of that night. He knows that
during the long hours William balked at a particularly steep climb, and
that Casey was finally obliged to get off and lead the Way. It established
an unfortunate precedent, for William refused to let Casey on again, and
Casey was too weak to mount in spite of William. They compromised at last;
that is, they both walked.

The light went out. Moreover, Casey's star that he had used to mark the
spot moved over to the west and finally slid out of sight altogether. But
Casey felt sure of the direction and he kept going doggedly toward the
point where the light had been. He says there wasn't a rod where a snail
couldn't have outrun him, and when the sky streaked red and orange and the
sun came up, he stood still and looked for a camp, and when he saw nothing
at all but bare rock and bushes of the kind that love barrenness, he
crawled under the nearest shade, tied William fast to the bush and slept.
You don't realize your thirst so much when you are asleep, and you are
saving your strength instead of wearing it out in the hot sun. He remained
there until the sun was almost out of sight behind a high peak. Then he
got up, untied William, mounted him without argument from either, and went
on, keeping to the direction in which he had seen the light.

Even the little brown mule was having trouble now. He wavered, he picked
his footing with great care when a declivity dipped before him; he stopped
every few yards and rested when he was making a climb. As for Casey, he
managed to hold himself on the narrow back of William, but that was all.
He understood perfectly that the next twenty-four hours would tell the
story for him and for William. He had a sturdy body however and a sturdy
brain that had never weakened its hold on facts. So he clung to his reason
and pushed fear away from him and said doggedly that he would go forward
as long as he could crawl or William could carry him, and he would die or
he would not die, as Fate decided for him. He wondered, too, about the
camp whose fire he had seen.

Then he saw the light. This time it burned suddenly clear and large and
very bright, away off to the left of him where he had by daylight noticed
a