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retted that he had asked. Well, something had to be done, and done quickly. Could he but feel sure of his direction, he might place this unfortunate upon Pat and walk with him to the railroad town, where proper medical and surgical attendance could be obtained. But this he was unable to do, since he fully realized he was astray. "Brother," he suddenly explained, "I was headed, myself, toward the railroad. A little before dark I lost my way. Do you happen to know--" "Sit down," interrupted the other, faintly. "I've been--been lost--a week." Stephen sat down thoughtfully. All hope of serving the man for the present was gone. He must wait till daybreak at least. Then somebody or something might appear to show him the way out. He thought of the ranch wagon, and of Buddy's offer, and it occurred to him that unless he was too far off the regular course he might attract Buddy. It was a chance, anyway. "I've been 'most dead, too, for a week," suddenly began the other. "I 'ain't eat regularly, for one thing--'most a month of that, I reckon. Been times, too, when I couldn't--couldn't find water. I didn't know the country over here. Had to change--change horses a couple times, too. Because--" He checked himself. "I made a mistake--the last horse. He give me all--all that was comin'--" A nicker from Pat interrupted him. Stephen felt him cringe. Directly he felt something else. It was a cold hand groping to find his own. The whole thing was queer, uncanny, and he was glad when the man went on. "Did--did you hear that?" breathed the fellow, a note of suppressed terror in his voice. "Did you hear it, friend? Tell me!" His voice was shrill now. Stephen reassured him, explaining that it was his horse. But a long time the man held fast, fingers gripping his hand, as if he did not believe, and was listening to make sure. At length he relaxed, and Stephen, still seated close beside him, heard him sink back into the sand. "I was getting away from--from--Oh, well, it don't--don't make any difference." The fellow was silent. "I needed a--a horse," he continued, finally. "My own--the third since--since--my own had played out. I was near a ranch, and--and it was night, and I--I seen a corral with a horse standing in it--a gray. It was moonlight. I--I got the gate open, and I--I roped him, and--" He interrupted himself, was upon one elbow again. "It was a stallion--a cross-bred, maybe--and--and say, friend, he rode me to death!
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