The horses, taking their own way, were wandering home.  Any exercise of control or guidance over them on my part was inspired by an instinct to avoid being seen.  Of conscious direction there was none.  Somewhere between the ferry and the ranch I remember being awakened from my torpor by the horse which I was leading showing an inclination to graze.  Then I noticed their gaunted condition, and in sympathy for the poor brutes unsaddled and picketed them in a secluded spot.  What happened at this halt has slipped from my memory.  But I must have slept a long time; for I awoke to find the moon high overhead, and my watch, through neglect, run down and stopped.  I now realized the better my predicament, and reasoned with myself whether I should return to Las Palomas or not.  But there was no place else to go, and the horses did not belong to me.  If I could only reach the ranch and secure my own horse, I felt that no power on earth could chain me to the scenes of my humiliation.

The horses decided me to return.  Resaddling at an unknown hour, I rode for the ranch.  The animals were refreshed and made good time.  As I rode along I tried to convince myself that I could slip into the ranch, secure my own saddle horse, and meet no one except the Mexicans.  There was a possibility that Deweese might still be in camp at the new reservoir, and I was hopeful that my employer might not yet be returned from the hunt on the Frio.  After a number of hours’ riding, the horse under saddle nickered.  Halting him, I listened and heard the roosters crowing in a chorus at the ranch.  Clouds had obscured the moon, and so by making a detour around the home buildings I was able to reach the Mexican quarters unobserved.  I rode up to the house of Enrique, and quietly aroused him; told him my misfortune and asked him to hide me until he could get up my horse.  We turned the animals loose, and, taking my saddle inside the jacal, held a whispered conversation.  Deweese was yet at the tank.  If the hunting party had returned, they had done so during the night.  The distant range of my horse made it impossible to get him before the middle of the forenoon, but Enrique and Dona Anita assured me that my slightest wish was law to them.  Furnishing me with a blanket and pillow, they made me a couch on a dry cowskin on the dirt floor at the foot of their bed, and before day broke I had fallen asleep.

On awakening, I found the sun had already risen.  Enrique and his wife were missing from the room, but a peep through a crevice in the palisade wall revealed Dona Anita in the kitchen adjoining.  She had detected my awakening, and soon brought me a cup of splendid coffee, which I drank with relish.  She urged on me also some dainty dishes, which had always been favorites with me in Mexican cookery, but my appetite was gone.  Throwing myself back on the cowskin, I asked Dona Anita how long Enrique had been gone in quest of my horse, and was informed that he left before dawn, not even waiting for his customary cup of coffee.  With the kindness of a sister, the girl wife urged me to take their bed; but I assured her that comfort was the least of my concerns, complete effacement being my consuming thought.