One was jet-black; the other iron-gray and in every line the clean-limbed animals showed the thoroughbred.
The black threw up his slim head and whinnied, with affection clearly shining in his soft, dark eyes as he recognized his master.
"Lance, old fellow, how did I ever leave you!" murmured Joe, as he threw his arm over the arched neck.

Mose stood by looking up, and wagging his tail in token of happiness at the reunion of the three old friends.

There were tears in Joe's eyes when, with a last affectionate caress, he turned away from his pet.
"Come, Jim, I'll take you to Mr.Wells." They stated across the little square, while Mose went back under the wagon; but at a word from Joe he bounded after them, trotting contentedly at their heels.

Half way to the cabins a big, raw-boned teamster, singing in a drunken voice, came staggering toward them.
Evidently he had just left the group of people who had gathered near the Indians.
"I didn't expect to see drunkenness out here," said Jim, in a low tone.
"There's lots of it.

I saw that fellow yesterday when he couldn't walk.