reparatory to placing it to his lips.

The rider had gone too far now to back out, and Rosalind watched him in
frank curiosity. And in the next instant, when the strains of the
harmonica smote the still morning air, Nigger began to prance.

What followed reminded the girl of a scene in the ring of a circus. The
horse, proud, dignified, began to pace slowly to the time of the
accompanying music, executing difficult steps that must have tried the
patience of both animal and trainer during the teaching period; the rider,
lithe, alert, proud also, smiling his pleasure.

Rosalind stood there long, watching. It was a clever exhibition, and she
found herself wondering about the rider. Had he always lived in the West?

The animal performed a dozen feats of the circus arena, and the girl was
so deeply interested in him that she did not observe Corrigan when he
emerged from the bank, stepped down into the street and stood watching the
rider. She noticed him though, when the black, forced to her side of the
street through the necessity of executing a turn, passed close to the
easterner. And then, with something of a shock, she saw Corrigan smiling
derisively. At the sound of applause from the group on the opposite side
of the street, Corrigan's derision became a sneer. Miss Benham felt
resentment; a slight color stained her cheeks. For she could not
understand why Corrigan should show displeasure over this clean and clever
amusement. She was looking full at Corrigan when he turned and caught her
gaze. The light in his eyes was positively venomous.

"It is a rather dramatic bid for your interest, isn't it, Miss Benham?" he
said.

His voice came during a lull that followed the applause. It reached
Rosalind, full and resonant. It carried to the rider of the black horse,
and glancing sidelong at him, Rosalind saw his face whiten under the deep
tan upon it. It carried, too, to the other side of the street, and the
girl saw faces grow suddenly tense; noted the stiffening of bodies. The
flat, ominous silence that followed was unreal and oppressive. Out of it
came the rider's voice as he urged the black to a point within three or
four paces of Corrigan and sat in the saddle, looking at him. And now for
the first time Rosalind had a clear, full view of the rider's face and a
quiver of trepidation ran over her. For the lean jaws were corded, the
mouth was firm and set--she knew his teeth were clenched; it was the face
of a man who woul