His horse was the one
friend in whom he would trust. He at least would never betray or
desert him.
Presently Wildfire, having eaten his fill of herbage, came and
snuffed at the cave's mouth with a whinny of inquiry. On hearing
Tom's voice, he stepped lightly in, and after standing for a while
beside his master, lay down between him and the opening to the
cave, so that Tom was well shielded from the keen night air, and
could sleep as snugly as in his bed at home.
Sleep he did, and soundly too; for the day's ride had wearied him,
and he was of the age and temperament when slumber is seldom wooed
in vain. How long he slept he knew not; but he was aroused at
length by a movement of Wildfire. The horse had lifted his head,
and was snorting slightly as if in anxiety or fear.
Tom looked out. The gray of dawn was in the sky, and between him
and the light stood a tall, motionless figure, outlined clearly in
the cave's mouth by the coming glow in the east. It was the figure
of a man. He held in his hand a great horse pistol, and was
evidently studying with some curiosity the sleeping figures whose
slumbers he had disturbed.
Tom would have sprung to his feet, but the man called out in a
clear, sharp voice:
"Keep where you are, or I fire!"
The hot blood surged into Tom's cheeks; but for once prudence took
the upper hand of valour, and he remained sitting upright behind
the still recumbent figure of Wildfire.
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