ed eagerly to the
surface. And though his mistress did not look the same to him--though he
found himself gazing down now instead of up to engage her eyes--yet, as
if she had been gone but a day, he suddenly nuzzled her hand for loaf
sugar and quartered apples. Then as suddenly he regretted this. For she
had left him--was running across the corral. Frantically he rushed after
her and, with a shrill cry of protest, saw her enter the house. But soon
she appeared again, and when close, and he saw the familiar sweets in
her hand, he nickered again, this time in sheer delight. And if he had
doubted his good fortune before, now, with his mouth dripping luscious
juices, he knew positively that he had come into his own again.

Sometime during the feast Helen noticed a scar across his nose. "Why,
Pat!" she exclaimed. "How ever did you get that?"

But Pat did not say. Indeed, it is doubtful whether, in this happiest of
moments, he would have descended to such commonplaces. But it was no
commonplace to Helen, and she promptly sought out the Mexican. Yet
Miguel declared that he knew nothing of the scar. He had been very
watchful of the colt, he lied, cheerfully, and the scar was as much a
mystery to him as it was to her. Whereupon Helen decided that Pat had
brought it about through some prank, and, after returning to him and
indulging in further caresses and love-talk, reluctantly took leave of
him, returning to the house, there to begin unpacking her numerous
trunks.

Thus their friendship was renewed. Pat was older by three years, as the
girl was older by three years. But each was much older than that in
point of development. Where before had been baby affection in him and
girl affection in her, now was a thing of greater worth and more lasting
quality--affection of a grown horse and a grown woman. In the days which
followed this was brought out in many ways. The colt did not once frisk
and play about the inclosure, a trait she remembered best; yet she did
not wish it. She preferred him as he was, finding in his mature conduct
something that enhanced his beauty; and rare beauty it was, as she
frequently noted in running proud eyes over his lines, and in noting it
came more and more to feel not alone great pride for him, but a sure
love as well--not the love woman gives to man, of course, but the love
she can give, and does give, without stint, to all dumb animals.

CHAPTER VI

THE FIRST GREAT LESSON

Helen spent muc