nergy, finding herself quite calm and collected again, vaguely
wondering how it would end. For the horse seemed tireless.

Wise in his knowledge of first principles, and remembering the terrible
slap across his eyes, Pat continued to rush forward. As he ran he kept
eyes alert about him, fearing another blow. He knew that the thing was
white, and he watched for a white something. Instead of a white
something, however, there presently loomed up beside him a brown
something, browner even than the desert, a something racing along beside
him, moving with a speed equal to his own--even greater than his own!
But he did not pause to analyze this. Instead, he forced himself to
greater efforts, pounding the hardened trail with an energy that hurt
his ankles, stretching neck and legs to their utmost limit of fiber--on
and on in increased frenzy. But he could not best this object beside
him. Yet that did not discourage him. He continued grimly forward, stung
to desperation now by a double purpose, which was to outrun this thing
on his right as well as get away from the other possible pursuing
object. Yet the brown thing gained upon him--drew steadily nearer,
steadily closer--he saw a hand shoot out. He felt a strong pull on his
bridle, a tearing twist on the bit in his mouth, and found himself
thrown out of his stride. But not even with this would he accept defeat.
He reared in a nervous effort to shake off the hand. Finding this
futile, he dropped back again, and at last came to a trembling, panting,
nerve-racked pause.

The thing was a horseman. He hurriedly dismounted, still retaining hold
on Pat's bridle, and smiled up at Helen.

"I--I tried to overtake you--to overtake you before you reached the
fence," he began to explain, pausing between words for breath. "This
horse of yours can--can claim--claim anything on record--for speed." And
he looked Pat over admiringly.

Helen did not speak at once. In the moment needed to regain her
self-possession she could only regard him with mute gratitude. She saw
that he was young and well-built, though lean of features, but with
frank, healthy eyes. He was not at all bad-looking. Also she observed
that he was neatly garbed in puttees and knickerbockers, and she quickly
appraised him as the usual type of Easterner come into the valley to
spend the winter. Then she suddenly remembered her hair. Woman-like, she
hastily gathered it up into a knot at the back of her head before she
answered