The Forbidden Trail

"All right, sweetheart, there's a bit of sugar for you. Shake hands with the ladies and gentlemen."

Like a great gray dog, Peter went from one to another, lifting his tiny hoof to be shaken. Felicia was afraid at first but ended by shaking the little unsteadily proffered hoof and kissing the little fellow's dusty forehead with a squeal of delight.

"Now you give us each a good night kiss, liebchen," ordered Von Minden, and as he indicated each person in turn, Peter followed and touched each one on the back of the neck, with his velvet nose.

"Now say good night," was the last order and Peter lifted his voice in a bray that shook the very rafters, after which he trotted out the door.

Certainly Peter and his master had never played to a more enthusiastic audience. Felicia wanted to go out and ride him then and there and Charley had to use considerable persuasion to get the excited little girl off to bed. But after this was accomplished Roger asked: "Where did you get Peter? Will you sell him?"

Crazy Dutch darted an ugly look at Roger.

Charley cut in quickly. "Tell us where you found him, Uncle Otto. Mr. Moore was merely showing how much he admired Peter."

"I thought he'd be so fine for Felicia," exclaimed Roger.

Von Minden grunted. Then he lighted his pipe. "I have not always been as you see me now," he said. "I was a geologist of reputation and when my health demanded a hot climate, it was natural I should come here to look for mines for a great German company. I am lucky and I have brains and I have the greatest training in the world, German training, so I find several mines and then jealousies, jealousies--jealousies--" he fell to mumbling to himself.

Charley prompted him. "So you decided to strike out for yourself, about five years ago."

"Yes, I do so. By then, you see, I had gotten to understand the desert loneliness. I loved it and I sold myself to the desert, body and soul. All I asked was to wander about on her magnificent barren bosom. It seemed to me I was entirely happy. But one day I found a little young burro stuck in a crevice in a blind canyon. Evidently he had been abandoned by an Indian. Me, I climb down in the crevice and I tie his heels so he can't kick and with my geologist's pick and hammer I work so carefully all day till I get him out. Why such toil? Because I find when I look into Peter's deep eyes that I am lonely--lonely beyond the power of thought or word to describe. And Peter, from that day to this, has never left me, day or night."