ppeal, uttered with all the composure at her
command:

"Won't you please get us out of here?"

"That's what I am aiming to do," he said, and never did a voice sound
sweeter in her ears; at that moment she almost forgave him for the great
crime he had committed against her.

[Illustration: "WON'T YOU PLEASE GET US OUT OF THIS?"]

He seemed not in the least excited, continuing to uncoil his rope and
recoil it again into larger loops. "Hold your hands over your head!" came
his command.

She did as she was bidden. He had not dismounted from his pony, but had
ridden up to the very edge of the quicksand, and as she raised her hands
she saw him twirl the rope once, watched as it sailed out, settled down
around her waist, and was drawn tight.

There was now a grim smile on his face. "You're in for a wetting," he
said. "I'm sorry--but it can't be helped. Get your feet off to one side so
that you won't get mixed up with the saddle. And keep your head above the
water."

"Ye-s," she answered tremulously, dreading the ordeal, dreading still more
the thought of her appearance when she would finally reach the bank.

His pony was in motion instantly, pulling strongly, following out its
custom of dragging a roped steer, and Sheila slipped off the saddle and
into the water, trying to keep her feet under her. But she overbalanced
and fell with a splash, and in this manner was dragged, gasping,
strangling, and dripping wet, to the bank.

Dakota was off his pony long before she had reached the solid ground and
was at her side before she had cleared the water, helping her to her feet
and loosening the noose about her waist.

"Don't, please!" she said frigidly, as his hand touched her.

"Then I won't." He smiled and stepped back while she fumbled with the rope
and finally threw it off. "What made you try that shallow?" he asked.

"I suppose I have a right to ride where I please?" He had saved her life,
of course, and she was very grateful to him, but that was no reason why he
should presume to speak familiarly to her. She really believed--in spite
of the obligation under which he had placed her--that she hated him more
than ever.

But he did not seem to be at all disturbed over her manner. On the
contrary, looking at him and trying her best to be scornful, he seemed to
be laboring heroically to stifle some emotion--amusement, she decided--and
she tried to freeze him with an icy stare.

"Now, you don't look dignified, for a fa