He soon reached the spot where he had first halted, and, plunging into the dense jungle growth, forced his way through the tangle of grass and vines. On and on he went till he came to a spot far remote from the line of battle and the path taken by those returning with the wounded. A moment later he was whinnying over a figure which lay stretched upon the ground. Nothing could have been more pronounced than his delight at finding the object of his search. But his delight was short-lived, for there was no reply to his repeated neighs and soft whinnies. He put his muzzle down to the beloved face and pushed it against the quiet hands, but won no response. Again and again he tried to rouse the quiet figure. Again and again did he strive to win some recognition. It was all in vain, and at last, when all else failed, he tried to pick up his precious charge with his teeth. But he could find no place where he dared lay hold, for he was far too wise to grasp anything but the clothing. And now Sonny was in dire straits, indeed, for he was unable to move his master and would not leave him. Night fell, and the dense darkness of the tropics enveloped them. Ere long rain began to fall in torrents, but Sonny did not quit his post. It may have been the rain, or it may have been dear Mother Nature’s healing touch, but whatever the cause was, at about midnight the quiet figure moaned slightly and stirred. Sonny instantly began to lick the white face; the eyes opened, and Bob looked wildly around. “Sonny,” he murmured. And Sonny neighed loudly. That was all, but the horse was satisfied. All the rest of the night he stood guard; sometimes licking the hands; sometimes whinnying softly. Morning came with the suddenness of the tropical daybreak, the sun seeming to spring straight up out of the sea, and with the morning poor Bob’s senses returned. He looked at Sonny and said: “Dear old fellow,” and tried to rise. But Bob was not likely to rise for some time. “How did you find me?” he asked, as though the horse could answer him. “I wonder how I came here, anyway? The last thing I remember was trying to crawl out of the reek and roar up yonder.” Once more he tried to raise himself up, but the exertion was too much for him, and with a pitiful moan he fell back unconscious. Now was Sonny indeed wretched! He stood the very picture of misery. But finally he seemed to decide upon a line of action, and with a parting caress, he started out of the steaming jungle. Once free of it, he encountered human beings; some wounded, some searching for the wounded; and to these last he seemed to turn instinctively. He whinnied, and they turned in surprise to see a horse emerging from a spot where no horse was supposed to be. “Look at that horse!” exclaimed one of them. “Go catch him, Sam.” Sam started forward, but Sonny had no notion of being caught again, and with a wild plunge he dashed back into the jungle.