alumet had retired.
Betty and Dade were in the kitchen; Malcolm and Bob were in the
sitting-room. Betty had taken Dade into her confidence and had related
to him the happenings of the day--so far as she could without
acquainting him with the state of her feelings toward Calumet.

"So he can ride some?" commented Dade, after she had told him about the
black. "I reckon he'd bust that horse or break his neck. But he was
in bad shape when he rode in--almost fell out of the saddle, an'
staggered scandalous when he walked. All in. Didn't make a whimper,
though. Clear grit. He grinned at me when he turned the black into
the corral.

"'Does that cayuse look busted?' he said.

"I allowed he had that appearance, an' he laughed.

"'I've give Betty Blackleg,' he said. 'I've got tired of him.'"

Betty's disappointment showed in her eyes; she had suspected that
Calumet had had another reason. She had hoped--

"I reckon, though, that that wasn't his real reason," continued Dade;
"he wasn't showin' all of his hand there."

"What makes you think that?" asked Betty, trying not to blush.

"Well," said Dade, "I was walkin' round the stable a while ago, just
nosin' around without any purpose, an' walkin' slow. When I got to the
corner, not makin' any noise, I saw Calumet standin' in front of the
stable door, talkin'. There was nobody around him--nothin' but
Blackleg, an' so I reckon he was talkin' to Blackleg. Sure enough he
was. He puts his head up against Blackleg's head, an' he said, soft
an' low, kinda:

"'Blackleg,' he said; 'I've give you away. I hated like poison to do
it, but I reckon Betty'll look a heap better on you than she does on
that skate she rode today. Damn that black devil!' he said, 'I
wouldn't have took the job of breakin' him for any other woman in the
world.'

"I come away then," concluded Dade; "for somehow I didn't want him to
know there was anybody around to hear him."

Betty got up quickly and went out on the porch. She stood there,
looking out into the darkness for a long, long time, and presently Dade
grew tired of waiting for her and went to his room.

CHAPTER XIX

A TRAGEDY IN THE TIMBER GROVE

The black was undoubtedly broken. His subsequent actions proved that.
He did not become docile by any means, but he was tractable, which is
to say that he did as he was bidden with a minimum of urging; he was
intelligent, divining, and learned quickly. Also, he respected his
co