e to get out in front of the King. Oh, how
grand it'd have been! Dad, I'd have run away from him the same as the
others!"

"No, you wouldn't," declared Bostil.

"Dad, Wildfire can beat the King!"

"Never, girl! Knockin' a good-tempered hoss off his pins ain't beatin'
him in a runnin'-race."

Then father and daughter fought over the old score, the one doggedly,
imperturbably, the other spiritedly, with flashing eyes. It was
different this time, however, for it ended in Lucy saying Bostil would
never risk another race. That stung Bostil, and it cost him an effort
to control his temper.

"Let thet go now. Tell me all about how you saved Wildfire, an' Slone,
too."

Lucy readily began the narrative, and she had scarcely started before
Bostil found himself intensely interested. Soon he became absorbed.
That was the most thrilling and moving kind of romance to him, like his
rider's dreams.

"Lucy, you're sure a game kid," he said, fervidly, when she had ended.
"I reckon I don't blame Slone for fallin' in love with you."

"Who said THAT!" inquired Lucy.

"Nobody. But it's true--ain't it?"

She looked up with eyes as true as ever they were, yet a little sad, he
thought, a little wistful and wondering, as if a strange and grave
thing confronted her.

"Yes, Dad--it's--it's true," she answered, haltingly.

"Wal, you didn't need to tell me, but I'm glad you did."

Bostil meant to ask her then if she in any sense returned the rider's
love, but unaccountably he could not put the question. The girl was as
true as ever--as good as gold. Bostil feared a secret that might hurt
him. Just as sure as life was there and death but a step away, some
rider, sooner or later, would win this girl's love. Bostil knew that,
hated it, feared it. Yet he would never give his girl to a beggarly
rider. Such a man as Wetherby ought to win Lucy's hand. And Bostil did
not want to know too much at present; he did not want his
swift-mounting animosity roused so soon. Still he was curious, and,
wanting to get the drift of Lucy's mind, he took to his old habit of
teasing.

"Another moonstruck rider!" he said. "Your eyes are sure full moons,
Lucy. I'd be ashamed to trifle with these poor fellers."

"Dad!"

"You're a heartless flirt--same as your mother was before she met ME."

"I'm not. And I don't believe mother was, either," replied Lucy. It was
easy to strike fire from her.

"Wal, you did dead wrong to ride out there day after day meet