reached it with his
wet clothes he was already wrapped in the blankets. A moment later he
seemed to be in a profound slumber.

It was only then, when his guest was lying helplessly at his mercy, that
he began to realize his strange experiences. The domination of this
man had been so complete that Morse, although by nature independent
and self-reliant, had not permitted himself to question his right or
to resent his rudeness. He had accepted his guest's careless or
premeditated silence regarding the particulars of his accident as a
matter of course, and had never dreamed of questioning him. That it was
a natural accident of that great world so apart from his own experiences
he did not doubt, and thought no more about it. The advent of the man
himself was greater to him than the causes which brought him there. He
was as yet quite unconscious of the complete fascination this mysterious
stranger held over him, but he found himself shyly pleased with even the
slight interest he had displayed in his affairs, and his hand felt yet
warm and tingling from his sudden soft but expressive grasp, as if it
had been a woman's. There is a simple intuition of friendship in some
lonely, self-abstracted natures that is nearly akin to love at first
sight. Even the audacities and insolence of this stranger affected
Morse as he might have been touched and captivated by the coquetries
or imperiousness of some bucolic virgin. And this reserved and shy
frontiersman found himself that night sleepless, and hovering with an
abashed timidity and consciousness around the wagon that sheltered his
guest, as if he had been a very Corydon watching the moonlit couch of
some slumbering Amaryllis.

He was off by daylight--after having placed a rude breakfast by the side
of the still sleeping guest--and before midday he had returned with a
horse. When he handed the stranger his pouch, less the amount he had
paid for the horse, the man said curtly:

"What's that for?"

"Your change. I paid only fifty dollars for the horse."

The stranger regarded him with his peculiar smile. Then, replacing the
pouch in his belt, he shook Morse's hand again and mounted the horse.

"So your name's Martin Morse! Well--goodby, Morsey!"

Morse hesitated. A blush rose to his dark check. "You didn't tell me
your name," he said. "In case--"

"In case I'm WANTED? Well, you can call me Captain Jack." He smiled,
and, nodding his head, put spurs to his mustang and cantered aw