In reply he rolled up his sleeve and bared a mighty arm. Where the

vaccination scar usually is I saw a red patch, like a burn. I leaned

over and examined it. It was a four-pointed scar, with a perfect

circle around it. Somehow, it seemed to me that this was not the first

time I had seen this peculiar mark. I did not recollect ever seeing it

on Max's arm. Where had I seen it, then?

"It looks like a burn," I ventured to suggest.

"It is. I wish I knew what it signifies. Scharfenstein said that it

was positively fresh when he found me. He said I cried a good deal and

kept telling him that I was Max. Maybe I'm an anarchist and don't know

it,"--with half a smile.

"It's a curious scar. Hang me, but I've seen the device somewhere

before!"

"You have?"--eagerly. "Where, where?"

"I don't know; possibly I saw it on your arm in the old days."

He sank back in his chair. Silence, during which the smoke thickened

and the pup whined softly in his sleep. Out upon the night the

cathedral bell boomed the third hour of morning.

"If you don't mind, Artie," said Max, yawning, "I'll turn in. I've

been traveling for the past fortnight."

"Take a ride on Dandy in the morning. He'll hold your weight nicely.

I can't go with you, as I've a lame ankle."

"I'll be in the saddle at dawn. All I need is a couple of hours

between sheets."

As I prodded my pillow into a comfortable wad under my cheek I wondered

where I had seen that particular brand. It was a brand. I knew that I

had seen it somewhere, but my memory danced away when I endeavored to

halter it. Soon I fell asleep, dreaming of somebody who wasn't Max

Scharfenstein, by a long shot.




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