also
that there were plenty of staples in the storeroom.

Something of the kind was afoot, or rather a-saddle, as Louise rode down
the Moonstone Trail, for beyond the turn and the rippling ford she saw a
lithe, blue-shirted figure that she knew.

Louise would not have admitted even to herself that she urged Boyar.
Nevertheless the reins tightened and slackened gently. Boyar swung into
his easy lope. It pleased the girl that Collie, turning in his saddle at
the sound of hoofs, waved a salute, but did not check his horse. He had
never presumed on her frank friendship and "taken things for granted."
He kept his place always. He was polite, a little reticent, and very
much in love with Louise. Louise did not pretend to herself that she
was not aware of it. She was all the more pleased that Collie should act
so admirably. She had loaned him books, some of which he had read
faithfully and intelligently. In secret he had kissed her name written
on the flyleaf of each of them. He really rather adored Louise than
loved her, and he builded well, for his adoration (unintimate as
adoration must ever be until perchance it touches earth and is
translated into love) was of that blithe and inspiriting quality that
lifts a man above his natural self and shapes the lips to song and the
heart to unselfish service. He knew himself to be good-looking and not
altogether a barbarian. No morbid hopelessness clouded his broad
horizon. He knew himself and cherished his strength and his optimism. He
ate slowly, which is no insignificant item on the credit side of the big
book of Success.

Collie lifted his broad-brimmed hat as Louise rode up. His face was
flushed. His lips were smiling, but his dark eyes were steady and grave.

"'Morning, Collie! Boyar is just bound to lope. He never can bear to have
a horse ahead of him."

"He don't have to, very often," said Collie.

"Of course, there are Kentucky saddle-horses that could beat him. But
they are not cow-ponies."

"No. And they couldn't beat him if they had to do his work in the
hills. About a week of the trails would kill a thoroughbred."

"Boyar is very conceited, aren't you, Boy?" And she patted the sleek
arch of his neck.

"I don't blame him," said Collie, his eyes twinkling.

"Going all the way to town?" asked Louise.

"Yes. Brand wants some things from the store."

"I'm going to the station. We expect a telegram from some friends. Maybe
they'll be there themselves. I hope not