Connecticut western news., 1919-10-09
CHAPTER III.

Dave's opportunity came sooner than he had expected. After the de- parture of the Hardys things at the old ranch were, as both father and son had predicted, very different. They found themselves on a sort of good behavior-a behavior which, un- happily, excited in each other grave l suspicious as to purpose. The tension steadily increased, and both looked forward to the moment when some thing must give way.
 For several weeks the old man re mained entirely sober, but the call of the appetite in him grew more and more insistent as the days went by, and at last came the morning when Dave awoke to find him gone. He needed no second guess; the craving had become irresistible and his father had ridden 10 town for the means to satisfy it. The passing days did not bring his return, but this occasioned no anxiety to Dave. In the course of carouse his father frequently re- mained away for weeks at stretch.
 He moped around the ranch build ings, sat moodily by the little stream, casting pebbles in the water, or rode over the old trails on which she had so often been his companion.
 Then the old mans horse came home. Dave saw it coming up the trail, not running wildly but with nervous gallop and many sidelong turnings of the head. As the boy watched he found strange empti- ness possess him; his body seemed a phantom on which his head hung over heavy. He spoke to the horse, which pulled up, snorting, before him; noted the wet neck and Hanks, and at last the broken stirrup. Then, slowly and methodically, and still with that strange sensation of emptiness, he saddled his own horse and set. out on the search.
 After the last rites had been paid to the old rancher, Dave set about at once to wind up his affairs, and it was not until then that he discovered how deeply his father had been in- volved. The selling of the cattle and the various effects realized only enough to discharge the liabilities, and when this had been done Dave found | himself with a considerable area of unmarketable land considerable bundle of paid bills and his horse, saddle and revolver, He rode his horse to town, carrying a few ar ticles of wear with him. It was only after a stiff fight that he could bring iroc fn orf xuif ion. The last miles into town were ridden very slowly, with the boy ire quently leaning forward and stroking the horses neck and ears.
 He sold horse and saddle for sixty dollars and took a room at cheap hotel until he should find work and still cheaper lodgings.
 In the evening he walked through the streets of the little COW town. It snubbed him with it's indifference. He became aware that he was very lonely. He realized that he had but one friend in the world; but one, and of her he knew not so much as her address. '. He began to wonder whether he really had friend at all: whether the girl would not discard him when he was of no further use, just as he had discarded his faithful old horse. Tears of loneliness and re- morse gathered in his eyes, and mist not of the twilight blurred the street lamps now glimmering from their poles. He felt that he had treated the horse very shabbily indeed. He want ed old Slop-eye back again. He sud- denly wanted kim with terrific long ing; wanted him more than anything else in the world. For the moment he forgot the girl and all his home