olemnly away.
A sense of relief came over him, he knew not why, and he was conscious
that for the first time he had not cared to look at the boat.

When the moon arose he again examined the body, and took from its
clothing a few articles of identification and some papers of formality
and precision, which he vaguely conjectured to be some law papers from
their resemblance to the phrasing of sheriffs' and electors' notices
which he had seen in the papers. He then buried the corpse in a shallow
trench, which he dug by the light of the moon. He had no question of
responsibility; his pioneer training had not included coroners' inquests
in its experience; in giving the body a speedy and secure burial
from predatory animals he did what one frontiersman would do for
another--what he hoped might be done for him. If his previous
unaccountable feelings returned occasionally, it was not from that;
but rather from some uneasiness in regard to his late guest's possible
feelings, and a regret that he had not been here at the finding of the
body. That it would in some way have explained his own accident he did
not doubt.

The boat did not "slow up" the next night, but passed as usual; yet
three or four days elapsed before he could look forward to its coming
with his old extravagant and half-exalted curiosity--which was his
nearest approach to imagination. He was then able to examine it more
closely, for the appearance of the stranger whom he now began to call
"his friend" in his verbal communings with himself--but whom he did not
seem destined to again discover; until one day, to his astonishment, a
couple of fine horses were brought to his clearing by a stock-drover.
They had been "ordered" to be left there. In vain Morse expostulated and
questioned.

"Your name's Martin Morse, ain't it?" said the drover, with business
brusqueness; "and I reckon there ain't no other man o' that name around
here?"

"No," said Morse.

"Well, then, they're YOURS."

"But who sent them?" insisted Morse. "What was his name, and where does
he live?"

"I didn't know ez I was called upon to give the pedigree o' buyers,"
said the drover dryly; "but the horses is 'Morgan,' you can bet your
life." He grinned as he rode away.

That Captain Jack sent them, and that it was a natural prelude to his
again visiting him, Morse did not doubt, and for a few days he lived
in that dream. But Captain Jack did not come. The animals were of great
service to him in