d hem of her riding skirt down over one spurred foot with a
truly feminine instinct, before she answered him. She seemed to be
thinking hard and fast, and she hesitated even while she spoke. Ford
wondered at the latent antagonism in her manner.

"I was crying because my foot hurts so and because I don't see how I'm
going to get back to the ranch. I suppose they'll hunt me up if I stay
away long enough--but it's getting toward night, and--I'm scared to
death of coyotes, if you must know!"

Ford laughed--at her defiance, in the face of her absolute helplessness,
more than at what she said. "And you tell me you don't need any help?"
he bantered.

"I might borrow your horse," she suggested coldly, as if she grudged
yielding even that much to circumstance. "Or you might catch mine for
me, I suppose."

"Sure. But you needn't hate me because you're in trouble," he hinted
irrelevantly. "I'm not to blame, you know."

"I--I hate to ask help from--a stranger," she said, watching him from
under her lashes. "And I can't help showing what I feel. I hate to feel
under an obligation--"

"If that's all, forget it," he assured her calmly. "It's a law of the
open--to help a fellow out in a pinch. When I headed for here, I thought
it was a man had been set afoot."

She eyed him curiously. "Then you didn't know--"

"I thought you were a man," he repeated. "I didn't come just because I
saw it was a girl. You needn't feel under any obligation whatever. I'm a
stranger in the country and a stranger to you. I'm perfectly willing to
stay that way, if you prefer. I'm not trying to scrape acquaintance on
the strength of your being in trouble; but you surely don't expect a
man to ride on and leave a woman out here on the bald prairie--do you?
Especially when she's confessed she's afraid of the dark--and coyotes!"

She was staring at him while he spoke, and she continued to stare after
he had finished; the introspective look which sees without seeing, it
became at last, and Ford gave a shrug at her apparent obstinacy and
turned away to where Rambler stood with his head drooped and his eyes
half closed. He picked up the reins and chirped to him, and the horse
hesitated, swung his left foot painfully forward, hobbled a step, and
looked at Ford reproachfully.

"Your horse is crippled as badly as I am, it would seem," the girl
observed, from where she sat watching them.

"I strained his shoulder, trying to make him jump that washout. That wa