ct," he grinned, brazenly allowing
his mirth to show in his eyes and in the sudden, curved lines that had
come around his mouth. "Still, you couldn't expect to look dignified, no
matter how hard you tried, after being dragged through the water like
that. Now could you?"

"It isn't the first time that I have amused you!" she said with angry
sarcasm.

A cloud passed over his face, but was instantly superseded by a smile.

"So you haven't forgotten?" he said.

She did not deign to answer, but turned her back to him and looked at her
partially submerged pony.

"Want to try it again?" he said mockingly.

She turned slowly and looked at him, her eyes flashing.

"Will you please stop being silly!" she said coldly. "If you were human
you would be trying to get my pony out of that sand instead of standing
there and trying to be smart!"

"Did you think that I was going to let him drown?" His smile had in it a
quality of subtle mockery which made her eyes blaze with anger. Evidently
he observed it for he smiled as he walked to his pony, coiling his rope
and hanging it from the pommel of the saddle. "I certainly am not going to
let your horse drown," he assured her, "for in this country horses are
sometimes more valuable than people."

"Then why didn't you save the pony first?" she demanded hotly.

"How could I," he returned, fixing her with an amused glance, "with you
looking so appealingly at me?"

She turned abruptly and left him, walking to a flat rock and seating
herself upon it, wringing the water from her skirts, trying to get her
hair out of her eyes, feeling very miserable, and wishing devoutly that
Dakota might drown himself--after he had succeeded in pulling the pony
from the quicksand.

But Dakota did not drown himself. Nor did he pull the pony out of the
quicksand. She watched him as he rode to the water's edge and looked at
the animal. Her heart sank when he turned and looked gravely at her.

"I reckon your pony's done for, ma'am," he said. "There isn't anything of
him above the sand but his head and a little of his neck. He's too far
gone, ma'am. In half an hour he'll----"

Sheila stood up, wet and excited. "Can't you do something?" she pleaded.
"Couldn't you pull him out with your lariat--like you did me?"

There was a grim humor in his smile. "What do you reckon would have
happened to you if I had tried to pull you out by the neck?" he asked.

"But can't you do _something_?" she pleaded, her icy