refused stubbornly to get up on her feet.

Gripped in dismay deeper than at first, Felipe fell back in mechanical
resignation.

Was the mare dying? he asked himself. He could ill afford to lose a
mare. Horses cost seven and eight dollars, and he did not possess so
much money. Indeed, all the money he had in the world was three dollars,
received for this last load of wood in town. So, what to do! Cursing the
mare had not helped matters; nor could he accuse the storm, for there
had been other storms, many of them, and each had she successfully
weathered--been ready, with its passing, to go on! But not so this one!
She--Huh? Could it be possible? Ah!

He looked at the mare with new interest. And the longer he gazed the
more his anger subsided, became finally downright compassion. For he was
reviewing a something he had contemplated at odd times for weeks with
many misgivings and tenacious unbeliefs. Never had he understood it!
Never would he understand that thing! So why lose time in an effort to
understand it now?

Dropping to his knees, he fell to work with feverish haste unbuckling
straps and bands. With the harness loose, he dragged it off and tossed
it to one side. Then, still moving feverishly, he led the mate to the
mare off the trail, turned to the wagon with bracing shoulder, backed it
clear of the prostrate animal, and swung it out of the way of future
passing vehicles. It was sweltering work. When it was done, with the
sun, risen to its fierce zenith, beating down upon him mercilessly, he
strode off the trail, blowing and perspiring, and flung himself down in
the baking sand, where, though irritated by particles of sand which had
sifted down close inside his shirt, he nevertheless gave himself over to
sober reflections.

He was stalled till the next morning--he knew that. And he was without
food-supplies to carry him over. And he was ten miles on the one hand,
and five up-canyon miles on the other, from all source of supplies. But
against these unpleasant facts there stood many pleasant facts--he was
on the return leg of his journey, his wagon was empty, and he had in his
possession three dollars. Then, too, there was another pleasant fact.
The trip as a trip had been unusual; never before had he, or any one
else, made it under two days--one for loading and driving into town, and
a second for getting rid of the wood and making the return. Yet he
himself had been out now only the one day, and he was on his