ing to lift its head. There were tears in Chris's
eyes as he turned abruptly away, and tears in Lute's eyes as they met
his. She was silent in her sympathy, though the pressure of her hand was
firm in his as he walked beside her horse down the dusty road.

"It was done deliberately," Chris burst forth suddenly. "There was no
warning. He deliberately flung himself over backward."

"There was no warning," Lute concurred. "I was looking. I saw him. He
whirled and threw himself at the same time, just as if you had done it
yourself, with a tremendous jerk and backward pull on the bit."

"It was not my hand, I swear it. I was not even thinking of him. He was
going up with a fairly loose rein, as a matter of course."

"I should have seen it, had you done it," Lute said. "But it was all
done before you had a chance to do anything. It was not your hand, not
even your unconscious hand."

"Then it was some invisible hand, reaching out from I don't know where."

He looked up whimsically at the sky and smiled at the conceit.

Martin stepped forward to receive Dolly, when they came into the stable
end of the grove, but his face expressed no surprise at sight of Chris
coming in on foot. Chris lingered behind Lute for moment.

"Can you shoot a horse?" he asked.

The groom nodded, then added, "Yes, sir," with a second and deeper nod.

"How do you do it?"

"Draw a line from the eyes to the ears--I mean the opposite ears, sir.
And where the lines cross--"

"That will do," Chris interrupted. "You know the watering place at the
second bend. You'll find Ban there with a broken back."

* * *

"Oh, here you are, sir. I have been looking for you everywhere since
dinner. You are wanted immediately."

Chris tossed his cigar away, then went over and pressed his foot on its
glowing fire.

"You haven't told anybody about it?--Ban?" he queried.

Lute shook her head. "They'll learn soon enough. Martin will mention it
to Uncle Robert tomorrow."

"But don't feel too bad about it," she said, after a moment's pause,
slipping her hand into his.

"He was my colt," he said. "Nobody has ridden him but you. I broke him
myself. I knew him from the time he was born. I knew every bit of him,
every trick, every caper, and I would have staked my life that it was
impossible for him to do a thing like this. There was no warning, no
fighting for the bit, no previous unruliness. I have been thinking it
over. He didn't fight for th