ng that form of exercise to the older horses,
he nevertheless was gritty with sand from swirling spring winds. So he
stood very still under the hostler's vigorous attention. But Miguel's
ambition did not stop here. He turned to the other horses and curried
and brushed them also, working till the perspiration streamed from him.
But this was not the end. He set to work in the stable, and scraped and
cleaned to the last corner, and rubbed and scoured to the smallest
harness buckle. It was all very unusual, and Pat, standing attentive
throughout it all, revealed marked interest and something of surprise.
Soon he was to know the reason.

Along toward noon, as he was feeding at the box, he saw a very dignified
young woman leave the house, cross the _patio_ in his direction,
and come to a stop immediately outside the fence. Though the feed-box
always held his interest above all other things, and though it was
strongly attracting him now, he nevertheless could not resist the
attention with which this young woman regarded him. He returned her gaze
steadily, wondering who she was and what she meant to do. He soon found
out, for presently she set out along the fence and came to a stop
directly in front of him. She did more. She held out a hand and sounded
a single word softly.

"Pat!" she called.

And now something took place inside the colt. With the word, far back in
his brain, in the remotest of cells, there came an effort for freedom.
It was a grim struggle, no doubt, for the thing must fight its way
against almost all other thoughts and scenes and persons in his memory.
But at length this vague memory gained momentum and dominance. And now
he understood. The young woman outside the fence was his little mistress
of early days! Lifting his head, he gave off a shrill and protracted
nicker of greeting.

Helen dropped her hand. "Bless you!" she cried, and sped along the
fence, opened the gate, and ran inside. "You do know me, don't you?" she
burst out, and, hurrying to his side, hugged him convulsively. "And I'm
so glad, Pat!" she went on. "It--it has been a long three years!" She
stepped back and looked him over admiringly. "And you have grown so!
Dear, oh, dear! Three years!" Again she stepped close and hugged him. "I
am so proud of you, Pat!"

All this love-talk, this caressing and hugging, was as the lifting of a
veil to Pat. Within him all that had lain dormant for three
years--affection, desires, life itself--now press