vel. A giant
boulder prevented direct access to the gravel bed. The only way to gain
it was by first leaping to the ledge of rock. She studied it carefully,
and the tightening of her bridle-arm advertised that she had made up her
mind.

Chris, in his anxiety, had sat up to observe more closely what she
meditated.

"Don't tackle it," he called.

"I have faith in Comanche," she called in return.

"He can't make that side-jump to the gravel," Chris warned. "He'll
never keep his legs. He'll topple over into the pool. Not one horse in a
thousand could do that stunt."

"And Comanche is that very horse," she answered. "Watch him."

She gave the animal his head, and he leaped cleanly and accurately to
the ledge, striking with feet close together on the narrow space. On
the instant he struck, Lute lightly touched his neck with the rein,
impelling him to the left; and in that instant, tottering on the
insecure footing, with front feet slipping over into the pool beyond,
he lifted on his hind legs, with a half turn, sprang to the left, and
dropped squarely down to the tiny gravel bed. An easy jump brought him
across the stream, and Lute angled him up the bank and halted before her
lover.

"Well?" she asked.

"I am all tense," Chris answered. "I was holding my breath."

"Buy him, by all means," Lute said, dismounting. "He is a bargain. I
could dare anything on him. I never in my life had such confidence in a
horse's feet."

"His owner says that he has never been known to lose his feet, that it
is impossible to get him down."

"Buy him, buy him at once," she counselled, "before the man changes his
mind. If you don't, I shall. Oh, such feet! I feel such confidence in
them that when I am on him I don't consider he has feet at all. And he's
quick as a cat, and instantly obedient. Bridle-wise is no name for it!
You could guide him with silken threads. Oh, I know I'm enthusiastic,
but if you don't buy him, Chris. I shall. Remember, I've second
refusal."

Chris smiled agreement as he changed the saddles. Meanwhile she compared
the two horses.

"Of course he doesn't match Dolly the way Ban did," she concluded
regretfully; "but his coat is splendid just the same. And think of the
horse that is under the coat!"

Chris gave her a hand into the saddle, and followed her up the slope to
the county road. She reined in suddenly, saying:

"We won't go straight back to camp."

"You forget dinner," he warned.

"But I remember