sight, and my horse, too, and there was as dead a silence as before the world was made, and still there was not a word from either of us. Then Jack said in a hollow voice:
"Why wasn't the horse hobbled, Bob?"
"Why, Jack, I had just taken the hobbles off, and made him ready for the road."
"Never mind, old fellow, I hardly know what I said; Gioro will come back."
"Yes," I said, "Gioro will come back."
And then, as if our confidence in Gioro's fidelity cleared the air, we sat down and lit our pipes. I don't know how much time passed, it seemed to be hours, but it couldn't have been near an hour, and Jack and I never exchanged a word. Then, sure enough, we saw Gioro coming, and he was leading my horse. I saw him first, and I jumped up and shouted for joy. Then Jack jumped up, but the shout died on his lips, and he said only, "There is something the matter."
And so there was. Both Gioro and the horse were wounded, and the wounds were deadly, for the spears that inflicted them were poisoned. The horse died first. I took Gioro's head on my lap, and gave him a few drops of water. He told me that he had