MY INTERPRETER RETURNS. 223 



who was forever trying to get at his oats, and often bit 

 him into the bargain, when it came to choosing be- 

 tween us, Texas, inconsistent as Polly Ann, who jilted 

 her policeman lover in favor of the thief he had cap- 

 tured making off with her purse, went back on his 

 human friend and protector without a moment's hesita- 

 tion. 



Texas's strongest points, next to his timidity, were his 

 appetite for oats and barley, and his extremely sociable 

 disposition. His big, sociable heart rebelled energeti- 

 cally against the forcible sundering of two companions, 

 who had for a month past fed out of the same trough, 

 drank out of the same bucket, shared the same stable, 

 yearned for one another's oats, took snap bites at each 

 other's ribs, fought flies together, and shoulder to 

 shoulder had safely passed through the ordeal of 

 inspection at the hands of the old ladies, S. P. C. A., 

 of Ekaterinoslav. He rebelled as I led him alone out 

 of the postayali dvor; and as though realizing all at 

 once the dismal significance of this new departure, 

 uttered a whinnying neigh of deep and fearful yearning. 



This musical evidence of a broken heart was re- 

 peated at brief intervals for several miles along his 

 lonely way; and when, the day getting hot, and his 

 anxiety about his chum producing moisture under the 

 saddle, I essayed to walk and lead him awhile, Texas 

 bluntly refused to lead. All efforts to reason with him 

 and to win him over by stroking him on his white nose 

 proved abortive. His only response would be a look 

 of melting reproach, and an effort to wheedle me into 

 turning back. 



For three days this sort of struggle went on ; the 



