thing in it was the horse. So I pinned him down, and kept him pinned—and not too much rye—until we'd got rid of the stock farm, canceled the fact that the horse was his, and got down to what looked like bedrock—which is just the story I have told you, that the creature was a wild horse running free in these mountains. The only difference he made then was that he swore on his sacred honor that he was the only man in the state of California who had ever seen it."
Rader took his long chin in his hand and meditated for a moment. "Xenophon," he said, "states that wild horses inhabit countries of plains, travel in bands, and that the stallions are not found separately from the mares."
"Quite right he is," Carron assented, as if Xenophon were easily his contemporary; "a lone stallion is as rare as a singing bird at sea; but still there are exceptions. Once in a while a dry summer brings it about. A horse drifts into the mountains in search of water. And then, there was another thing that made me think perhaps there was something in the fellow's story. If you want to know, it's the thing that brought me here. When he described that horse to me I thought he described a horse that I had seen once myself."
"Ah!" but the word did not express Rader's en-
37
