m under the brow-band,
and commanded him to shake hands, which the horse did promptly.

"I want to shake hands wis your pony, too," Dorman cried, and dropped
pole and fish heedlessly into the grass.

"All right, kid."

Dorman went up gravely and clasped Redcloud's raised fetlock solemnly,
while the tall cow-puncher smiled down at him.

"Kiss him, Redcloud," he said softly; and then, when the horse's nose
was thrust in his face: "No, not me--kiss the kid." He lifted the child
up in his arms, and when Redcloud touched his soft nose to Dorman's
cheek and lifted his lip for a dainty, toothless nibble, Dorman was
speechless with fright and rapture thrillingly combined.

"Now run home with your fish; it lacks only two hours and forty minutes
to dinner time, and it will take at least twenty minutes for the fish to
fry--so you see you'll have to hike."

Beatrice flushed and looked at him sharply, but Keith was getting into
the saddle and did not appear to remember she was there. The fingers
that were tying her hat-ribbons under her chin fumbled awkwardly and
trembled. Beatrice would have given a good deal at that moment to know
just what Keith Cameron was thinking; and she was in a blind rage with
herself to think that it mattered to her what he thought.

When he lifted his hat she only nodded curtly. She mimicked every beast
and bird she could think of on the way home, to wipe him and his horse
from the memory of Dorman, whose capacity for telling things best left
untold was simply marvelous.

It is saying much for Beatrice's powers of entertainment that Dorman
quite forgot to say anything about Mr. Cameron and his pony, and
chattered to his auntie and grandmama about kitties up in a tree, and
lost lambs and sleepy birds, until he was tucked into bed that night.
It was not until then that Beatrice felt justified in drawing a long
breath. Not that she cared whether any one knew of her meeting Keith
Cameron, only that her mother would instantly take alarm and preach to
her about the wickedness of flirting; and Beatrice was not in the mood
for sermons.

CHAPTER 9. What It Meant to Keith.

"Dick, I wish you'd tell me about this leasing business. There are
points which I don't understand." Beatrice leaned over and smoothed
Rex's sleek shoulder with her hand.

"What do you want to understand it for? The thing is done now. We've got
the fence-posts strung, and a crew hired to set them."

"You needn't snap your wo