With a piteous effort the roan got upon his legs. That there was back trouble and at least one hock was sprung I saw at a glance. The horse had been broken down. He was still blowing badly, and I ran for the flask in the car. When I came back, Jonah was caressing his charger with tears running down his cheeks....

There is a listlessness, born of harsh treatment, suckled on dying hopes, reared on the bitter memory of happier days, which is more eloquent than tears. There is an air of frozen misery, of a despair so deep that a kind word has come to lose its meaning, which none but horses wear.

Looking upon Zed, I felt ashamed to be a man.

Gaunt, filthy, and tottering, the flies mercilessly busy about three shocking sores, the roan was presenting a terrible indictment to be filed against the Day of Judgment. '...And not one of them is forgotten before G.o.d....' But there was worse than pain of body here.

The dull, see-nothing eyes, the heavy-laden head, the awful-stricken mien, told of a tragedy to make the angels weep--an English thoroughbred, not dead, but with a broken heart.

We had administered the brandy, Jonah was bathing a sore, and I had made a wisp and was rubbing Zed down, when--

"Good day," said a voice.

With his arms folded upon the sill, a little grey-headed man was watching us from a window.

I looked up and nodded.

"Good day," I said.

"Ah like boxing," said the man. "Ah've bin twelve years in the States, an' Ah'd rather see boxing than a bull-fight. You like baseball?"

I shook my head.

"I've never seen it," I said.

"Haven't missed much," was the reply. "But Ah like boxing. You visiting Spain?"

"For a few days."

"'S a fine country. Bin to Sevilla?"

Entirely ignoring the violence which he had just witnessed, to say nothing of our trespa.s.s upon his property and our continued attention to his horse, the farmer proceeded to discuss the merits and shortcomings of Spain with as much detached composure as if we had met him in a tavern.

At length Jonah got up.

"Will you sell me this horse?"

"Yes," said the man. "Ah will."

"What d'you want for him?"

"Five hundred pesetas."

"Right," said Jonah. "Have you got a halter?"

The man disappeared. Presently he emerged from a door halter in hand.

The twenty pounds pa.s.sed, and Zed was ours.

Tenderly my cousin fitted the halter about the drooping head.

"One more effort, old chap," he said gently, turning towards the gate....

Out of compa.s.sion for the mules, I drew the farmer's attention to the hub which was nursing the gatepost.

He just nodded.

"Pedro could never drive," he said.

"I should get a new carter," I said.

He shrugged his shoulders. Then he jerked his head in the direction of the carcase upon the midden.

"He is my step-father. We do not speak," he said simply.

We found the others in the hamlet through which we had pa.s.sed. There I handed over Ping to Adele, and thence Jonah and Zed and I walked to Zumaya.

To find a box at the station was more than we had dared hope for, but there it was--empty and waiting to be returned to San Sebastian.

Beneath the influence of twenty-five pesetas, the station-master saw no good reason why it should not be returned by the evening train.

We left Jonah to accompany his horse and hurried home by car to seek a stable.

When we sat down to dinner that night at eight o'clock, Jonah called for the wine-list and ordered a magnum of champagne.

When the wine was poured, he raised his gla.s.s and looked at me.

"Thank you for helping me," he said. He glanced round with his eyes glowing. "And all of you for being so glad." He drank and touched Adele upon the shoulder. "In a loose-box, up to his knees in straw, with an armful of hay to pick over, and no congestion.... Have you ever felt you wanted to get up and dance?" He turned to Berry.

"Brother, your best. May you spot the winner to-night, as I did this afternoon."

"Thank you," said Berry, "thank you. I must confess I'd been hoping for some sort of intuition as to what to do. But I've not had a hint so far. Perhaps, when I get to the table.... It's silly, of course.

One mustn't expect too much, but I had the feeling that I was going to be given a tip. You know. Like striking a dud egg, and then putting your shirt on a horse called 'Attar of Roses.' ... Never mind. Let's talk about something else. Why did you call him 'Zed'?"

"Short for 'Zero,'" said Jonah. "I think my groom started it, and I----"

"Zero," said Berry quietly. "I'm much obliged."

It was a quarter to eleven, and Berry had lost one hundred and seventy pounds.

Across her husband's back Daphne threw me a despairing glance. Upon the opposite side of the table, Adele and Jill, one upon either side of Jonah, stared miserably before them. I lighted my tenth cigarette and wondered what Berry had done....

The table was crowded.

From their points of vantage the eight croupiers alternately did their business and regarded the a.s.sembly with a bored air.

A beautifully dressed American, who had been losing, observed the luck of her neighbour, a burly Dutchman, with envious eyes. With a remonstrance in every fingertip, a debonnaire Frenchman was laughingly upbraiding his fellow for giving him bad advice. From above his horn-rimmed spectacles an old gentleman in a blue suit watched the remorseless rake jerk his five pesetas into "the Bank" in evident annoyance. Cheek by jowl with a dainty Englishwoman, who reminded me irresistibly of a Dresden shepherdess, a Spanish Jew, who had won, was explosively disputing with a croupier the amount of his stake. Two South Americans were leaning across the table, nonchalantly "plastering the board." A little old lady, with an enormous bag, was thanking an elegant Spaniard for disposing her stake as she desired. Finger to lip, a tall Spanish girl in a large black hat was sizing her remaining counters with a faint frown. A very young couple, patently upon their honeymoon, were conferring excitedly....

"_Hagan juego, Senores._"