"A toy," said Lewis, coloring.

"Who made it?"

"I did."

"You did, eh? Well, I'll keep it." The stranger fingered around until he
found the missing leg. "You can take the rest of your things away. I'll
lend 'em to you, and your pony. Now let's eat."

That night Lewis, too excited to sleep, lay awake for hours smiling at
the moon. He was smiling because he felt that somehow, out of the wreck,
friendship had been saved.




CHAPTER XII


The country through which they traveled was familiar to Lewis, tedious
to the stranger. Sand, sparse grass, and thorn-trees; thorn-trees and
sand, was their daily portion. The sun beat down and up. They traveled
long hours by night, less and less by day. They talked little, for night
has a way of sealing the lips of those who journey under her wing.

Water was scarce. The day before that on which they hoped to make the
river, a forced march brought them to a certain water-hole. The
stranger, Lewis, and the guide arrived at it far ahead of the