ble smooth! An' so you want to
ride my horse!" He sat, regarding the Easterner in deep, feigned
amazement. "Why, Willard," he said when it seemed he had quite recovered,
"Patches would sure go to sun-fishin' an' dump you off into that little
ol' suck-hole ag'in!" He urged the pony on through the water to the
buckboard and drew up beside the girl.

Her face was crimson, for she had not failed to hear Masten, and it was
plain to the rider that she had divined that jealously had impelled
Masten to insist on the change of riders. Feminine perverseness, or
something stronger, was in her eyes when the rider caught a glimpse of
them as he brought his pony to a halt beside her. He might now have made
the mistake of referring to Masten and thus have brought from her a quick
refusal to accompany him, for he had made his excuse to Masten and to
have permitted her to know the real reason would have been to attack her
loyalty. He strongly suspected that she was determined to make Masten
suffer for his obstinacy, and he rejoiced in her spirit.

"We're ready for you now, ma'am."

"Are you positively certain that Patches won't go to 'sunfishing' with
me?" she demanded, as she poised herself on the edge of the buckboard. He
flashed a pleased grin at her, noting with a quickening pulse the deep,
rich color in her cheeks, the soft white skin, her dancing eyes--all
framed in the hood of the rain cloak she wore.

He reached out his hands to her, clasped her around the waist and swung
her to the place on the saddle formerly occupied by Aunt Martha. If he
held her to him a little more tightly than he had held Aunt Martha the
wind might have been to blame, for it was blowing some stray wisps of her
hair into his face and he felt a strange intoxication that he could
scarcely control.

And now, when she was safe on his horse and there was no further danger
that she would refuse to ride with him, he gave her the answer to her
question:

"Patches wouldn't be unpolite to a lady, ma'am," he said quietly, into
her hair; "he wouldn't throw you."

He could not see her face--it was too close to him and his chin was
higher than the top of her head. But he could not fail to catch the mirth
in her voice:

"Then you lied to Willard!"

"Why, yes, ma'am; I reckon I did. You see, I didn't want to let Patches
get all muddied up, ridin' over to Willard."

"But you are riding him into the mud now!" she declared in a strangely
muffled voice.

"Why,