down thar fer fifty miles, an' never git off your hoss?"

"No, I wouldn't believe it possible."

"Wal, it's so. I've done it. An' I didn't want to come up thet way
because I'd had to leave tracks."

"Do you think we're safe--from Cordts now?" she asked.

"I reckon so. He's no tracker."

"But suppose he does trail us?"

"Wal, I reckon I've a shade the best of Cordts at gun-play, any day."

Lucy regarded the man in surprise. "Oh, it's so--strange!" she said.
"You'd fight for me. Yet you dragged me for days over these awful
rocks! ... Look at me, Creech. Do I look much like Lucy Bostil?"

Creech hung his head. "Wal, I reckoned I wasn't a blackguard, but I AM."

"You used to care for me when I was little. I remember how I used to
take rides on your knee."

"Lucy, I never thought of thet when I ketched you. You was only a means
to an end. Bostil hated me. He ruined me. I give up to revenge. An' I
could only git thet through you."

"Creech, I'm not defending Dad. He's--he's no good where horses are
concerned. I know he wronged you. Then why didn't you wait and meet him
like a man instead of dragging me to this misery?"

"Wal, I never thought of thet, either. I wished I had." He grew
gloomier then and relapsed into silent watching.

Lucy felt better next day, and offered to help Creech at the few camp
duties. He would not let her. There was nothing to do but rest and
wait, and the idleness appeared to be harder on Creech than on Lucy. He
had always been exceedingly active. Lucy divined that every hour his
remorse grew keener, and she did all she could think of to make it so.
Creech made her a rude brush by gathering small roots and binding them
tightly and cutting the ends square. And Lucy, after the manner of an
Indian, got the tangles out of her hair. That day Creech seemed to want
to hear Lucy's voice, and so they often fell into conversation. Once he
said, thoughtfully:

"I'm tryin' to remember somethin' I heerd at the Ford. I meant to ask
you--" Suddenly he turned to her with animation. He who had been so
gloomy and lusterless and dead showed a bright eagerness. "I heerd you
beat the King on a red hoss--a wild hoss! ... Thet must have been a
joke--like one of Joel's."

"No. It's true. An' Dad nearly had a fit!"

"Wal!" Creech simply blazed with excitement. "I ain't wonderin' if he
did. His own girl! Lucy, come to remember, you always said you'd beat
thet gray racer.... Fer the Lord's sake tell me all ab