He wheeled the pony and sent it scampering back. A little later he was kneeling at Masten's side, and still later he helped Masten to the saddle in front of him and set out again into the desert blackness toward the timber from which they both had burst some time before. Many hours afterward they came to the river, at the point where the Lazette trail intersected. There, in the shallow water of the ford, Masten washed from his body the signs of his experience, Catherson helping him. Outwardly, when they had finished, there were few marks on Masten. But inwardly his experience had left an ineffaceable impression. After washing, he staggered to a rock and sat on it, his head in his hands, shivers running over him. For a time Catherson paid no attention to him, busying himself with his pony, jaded from the night's work. But after half an hour, just as the first faint shafts of dawn began to steal up over the horizon, Catherson walked close, and stood looking down at his victim. "Well," he said, slowly and passionlessly, "I've got you this far. I'm quittin' you. I reckon I've deviled you enough. I was goin' to kill you. But killin' you wouldn't have made things right. I expect you've learned somethin', anyway. You'll know enough to play square, after this. An' wherever you go--" Masten looked up at him, his face haggard, his eyes brimming, but flashing earnestly. "I'm going back to Hagar," he said. He shivered again. "You're right, Catherson," he added, his voice quavering; "I learned a lot tonight. I've learned--" His voice broke, and he sat there grim and white, shuddering as a child shudders when awakened from a nightmare. He almost collapsed when Catherson's huge hands fell to his shoulders, but the hands held him, the fingers gripping deeply into the flesh. There was a leap in Catherson's voice: "You're almost a man, after all!" he said. They got on the pony after a while, riding as before, Masten in front, Catherson behind him, steadying him. And in this manner they rode on toward Catherson's shack, miles down the river. It was late in the morning when they came in sight of the shack, and seeing them from afar Hagar ran to them. She stopped when she saw Masten, her eyes wide with wonder and astonishment that changed quickly to joy as she saw a smile gathering on Catherson's face. "I've brought you your husband, Hagar," he told her. Hagar did not move. Her hands were pressing her breast; her eyes were eloquent with doubt and hope. They sought Masten's, searchingly, defiantly. And she spoke directly to him, proudly, her head erect: "If you've come ag'in your will--If dad had to bring you--" She paused, her lips trembling. "Shucks," said Catherson gently; "he's come on his own hook, Hagar. Why, he asked me to bring him--didn't you, Masten?"