Chapter 27

Returning from the office the next forenoon, Harboro stopped at the head of the short street on which the chief stable of Eagle Pass was situated.

He had had no difficulty in obtaining a leave of absence, which was to be for one week with the privilege of having it extended to twice that time if he felt he needed it. In truth, his immediate superior had heartily approved of the plan of his going for an outing. He had noticed, he admitted, that Harboro hadn't been altogether fit of late. He was glad he had decided to go away for a few days. He good-naturedly insisted upon the leave of absence taking effect immediately.

And Harboro had turned back toward Eagle Pass pondering darkly.

He scanned the street in the direction of the stable. A stable-boy was exercising a young horse in the street, leading it back and forth, but otherwise the thoroughfare seemed somnolently quiet.

He sauntered along until he came to the stable entrance. He had the thought of entering into a casual conversation with the proprietor. He would try to get at the actual facts touching that mistake the stable people had made. He would not question them too pointedly. He would not betray the fact that he believed something was wrong. He would put his questions casually, innocently.

The boy was just turning in with the horse he had been exercising. He regarded Harboro expectantly. He was the boy who had brought the horses on the night of that ride to the Quemado.

"I didn't want anything," said Harboro; "that is, nothing in particular. I'll be likely to need a horse in a day or two, that's all."

He walked leisurely into the shady, cool place of pungent odors. He had just ascertained that the proprietor was out when his attention was attracted by a dog which lay with perfect complacency under a rather good-looking horse.

"A pretty dangerous place, isn't it?" he asked of the stable-boy.

"You _would_ think so, wouldn't you? But it isn't. They're friends. You'll always find them together when they can get together. When Prince--that's the horse--is out anywhere, we have to pen old Mose up to keep him from following. Once when a fellow hired Prince to make a trip over to Spofford, old Mose got out, two or three hours later, and followed him all the way over. He came back with him the next day, grinning as if he'd done something great. We never could figure out how old Mose knew where he had gone. Might have smelled out his trail. Or he might have heard them talking about going to Spofford, and understood. The more you know about dogs the less you know about them--same as humans."

He went back farther into the stable and busied himself with a harness that needed mending.

Harboro was looking after him with peculiar intensity. He looked at the horse, which stood sentinel-like, above the drowsing dog. Then he engaged the stable-boy in further conversation.

"A pretty good-looking horse, too," he said. And when the boy nodded without enthusiasm, he added: "By the way, I suppose it's usually your job to get horses ready when people want them?"

"Yes, mostly."

Harboro put a new note of purposefulness into his voice. "I believe you send a horse around for Mrs. Harboro occasionally?"

"Oh, yes; every week or so, or oftener."

Harboro walked to the boy's side and drew his wallet from his pocket deliberately. "I wish," he said, "that the next time Mrs. Harboro needs a horse you'd send this fine animal to her. I have an idea it would please her. Will you remember?" He produced a bank-note and placed it slowly in the boy's hand.

The boy looked up at him dubiously, and then understood. "I'll remember," he said.

Harboro turned away, but at the entrance he stopped. "You'd understand, of course, that the dog wouldn't be allowed to go along," he called back.

"Oh, yes. Old Mose would be penned up. I'd see to it."

"And I suppose," said Harboro finally, "that if I'd telephone to you any day it wouldn't take you long to get a horse ready for me, would it? I've been thinking of using a horse a little myself."

He was paying little attention to the boy's assurances as he went away. His step had become a little firmer as he turned toward home. He seemed more like himself when he entered the house and smiled into his wife's alertly questioning eyes.

"It's all right, I'm to get away," he explained. "I'm away now, strictly speaking. I want to pack up a few things some time to-day and get the early morning train for Torreon."

She seemed quite gleeful over this cheerful information. She helped him make selection of the things he would need, and she was ready with many helpful suggestions. It seemed that his train left the Eagle Pass station at five o'clock in the morning--a rather awkward hour; but he did not mind, he said.

They spent the day together without any restraints, seemingly. There were a good many things to do, and Sylvia was happy in the thought of serving him. If he regarded her now and again with an expression of smouldering fire in his eyes she was unaware of the fact. She sang as she worked, interrupting her song at frequent intervals to admonish him against this forgetfulness or that.

* * * * *

She seemed to be asleep when, an hour before daybreak, he stirred and left her side. But she was awake immediately.

"Is it time to go?" she asked sleepily.

"I hoped I needn't disturb you," he said. "Yes, I ought to be getting on my way to the station."

She lay as if she were under a spell while he dressed and made ready to go out. Her eyes were wide open, though she seemed to see nothing. Perhaps she was merely stupid as a result of being awakened; or it may be that indefinable, foreboding thoughts filled her mind.

When he came to say good-by to her she put her arms around his neck. "Try to have a good time," she said, "and come back to me your old self again."

She felt fearfully alone as she heard him descend the stairs. She held her head away from the pillow until she heard the sharp closing of the street-door. "He's gone," she said. She shivered a little and drew the covers more closely about her.