THE END OF THE TRAIL 301 



the mountains lay white and cold under their 

 mantle of snow. 



It was a real hardship to part from my faith- 

 ful horses. Button had served me as saddle or 

 pack pony over two thousand miles of desert 

 and mountain trails and Heart from the Cibicue 

 in Arizona. With no other companions on 

 long reaches of lonely trail and in even more 

 lonely camps, when I talked to them and they 

 seemed to understand, my imagination had im- 

 bued them with almost human instincts and 

 sympathies. They had been faithful friends 

 indeed. 



Button, who had lavished his affections upon 

 Heart, after our parting from Shorty and Billy, 

 had elected himself Heart's protector whenever 

 he and the more passive Heart were thrown in 

 contact with other animals. At Emigrant I set 

 them free on a range with other horses, and 

 when I turned for a last look at them I beheld 

 Button, his ears lying back, the white of his 

 eyes gleaming, his mouth open, charging some 

 inquisitive horses that had attempted to ap- 

 proach Heart and striking viciously at them 

 with his fore feet. Heart, the personification of 

 patience, his ears pricked forward, stood in the 

 background. 



This was not a hunting trip. Its chief ob- 



