He rubbed until his fingers were numb and his arm aching, tried him again, and gave up all hope of leading the horse to a ranch.

A mile he might manage, if he had to but ten! He rubbed Rambler's nose commiseratingly, straightened his forelock, told him over and over that it was a darned shame, anyway, and finally turned to pick up his saddle.

He could not leave that lying on the prairie for inquisitive kit-foxes to chew into shoestrings, however much he might dread the forty-pound burden of it on his shoulders.

He was stooping to pick it up when he saw a bit of paper twisted and tied to the saddle-horn with a red ribbon.
"Lordy me!" he ejaculated ironically.

"The lady left a note on my pillow--and I never received it in time! Now, ain't that a darned shame ?" He plucked the knot loose, and held up the ribbon and the note, and laughed.
"'When this reaches you, I shall be far away, though it breaks my heart to go and this missive is mussed up scandalous with my bitter tears.
Forgive me if you can, and forget me if you have to.