Like a flash she had it! Stephen would go into the cattle country--she believed that. And in the cattle country he would need a horse, a good horse, such a horse as Pat. She would present the horse to Stephen! She would send Pat with him because she herself could not go with him. This she could do. Thus she would help Stephen to find himself, as her ancestors had found themselves. She would help him to become what she wanted him to become--a man--a _man_! Yes, she would give Pat to Stephen. She would send the horse as she had sent the man--forth into the world of deeds--deeds denied her sex. She rose hurriedly and ascended to her room. At her desk she drew paper and pen toward her. My dear Stephen [she began her letter],--I am sending Pat to you through Miguel. I wanted to help you in some way. I cannot help you myself directly, but in Pat I feel you will have a valuable aid. Take him--take him with my dearest and best wishes for your success. Pat may actually show you the way--may actually point the way out to you. Who knows? He understands who you are, I know, and I am sure he knows what you have been, and what you still are, to me. Helen. For a moment she sat deep in thought. Then suddenly awaking to the lateness of the hour, she arose and, going to the corral, called to the hostler. Miguel appeared, and she handed him the note, giving him careful instructions the while in regard to the horse. The Mexican smiled and entered the stable in quest of saddle and bridle, the while she turned to Pat in his corner and explained what she was about to do. "Pat dear," she began, nestling her cheek against his head, "you are going away. You are going with Stephen. Do you remember Stephen?" Emotion began to grip her. "You have served me well, Pat, and faithfully. I hope you will prove as true to your new master. I--I wanted to help him. But I--I couldn't--couldn't--" She could not go on. Gazing up into his eyes she seemed to see him waver--knew that it was because of her blinding tears--and abruptly left him and returned to the house. In her room she stood weeping at the window overlooking the corral. She saw the Mexican bridle and saddle her pride, saw him carefully tuck away her note, and saw him mount Pat with a great show of importance, as though elated with his commission. Then she saw him ride Pat out of the corral, across into the river trail, and turn toward town. Seeing her horse go from her, perhaps for all time, she turned from the window and flung herself across her bed, where she gave way to her grief. Her Pat was gone! Her Pat--heart of her life--was gone!