rested in
his hands, and from there she vaulted into the saddle. Without speaking,
without further looking at each other, they turned the horses' heads and
took the narrow trail that wound down through the sombre redwood aisles
and across the open glades to the pasture-lands below. The trail became
a cow-path, the cow-path became a wood-road, which later joined with a
hay-road; and they rode down through the low-rolling, tawny California
hills to where a set of bars let out on the county road which ran
along the bottom of the valley. The girl sat her horse while the man
dismounted and began taking down the bars.

"No--wait!" she cried, before he had touched the two lower bars.

She urged the mare forward a couple of strides, and then the animal
lifted over the bars in a clean little jump. The man's eyes sparkled,
and he clapped his hands.

"You beauty! you beauty!" the girl cried, leaning forward impulsively
in the saddle and pressing her cheek to the mare's neck where it burned
flame-color in the sun.

"Let's trade horses for the ride in," she suggested, when he had led
his horse through and finished putting up the bars. "You've never
sufficiently appreciated Dolly."

"No, no," he protested.

"You think she is too old, too sedate," Lute insisted. "She's only
sixteen, and she can outrun nine colts out of ten. Only she never cuts
up. She's too steady, and you don't approve of her--no, don't deny it,
sir. I know. And I know also that she can outrun your vaunted Washoe
Ban. There! I challenge you! And furthermore, you may ride her yourself.
You know what Ban can do; so you must ride Dolly and see for yourself
what she can do."

They proceeded to exchange the saddles on the horses, glad of the
diversion and making the most of it.

"I'm glad I was born in California," Lute remarked, as she swung
astride of Ban. "It's an outrage both to horse and woman to ride in a
sidesaddle."

"You look like a young Amazon," the man said approvingly, his eyes
passing tenderly over the girl as she swung the horse around.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"All ready!"

"To the old mill," she called, as the horses sprang forward. "That's
less than a mile."

"To a finish?" he demanded.

She nodded, and the horses, feeling the urge of the reins, caught the
spirit of the race. The dust rose in clouds behind as they tore along
the level road. They swung around the bend, horses and riders tilted at
sharp angles to the ground, and m