self
again encompassed with the darkness. The outlines of the poles had
disappeared, the white fluttering garments were distinct apparitions
waving in the wind, like dancing ghosts. But there certainly was a queer
misshapen bulk moving beyond, which she did not recognize, and as she at
last reached one of the poles, a shock was communicated to it, through
the clothes-line and the bulk beyond. Then she heard a voice say
impatiently,--

"What in h-ll am I running into now?"

It was a man's voice, and, from its elevation, the voice of a man on
horseback. She answered without fear and with slow deliberation,--

"Inter our clothes-line, I reckon."

"Oh!" said the man in a half-apologetic tone. Then in brisker accents,
"The very thing I want! I say, can you give me a bit of it? The ring of
my saddle girth has fetched loose. I can fasten it with that."

"I reckon," replied Lanty, with the same unconcern, moving nearer the
bulk, which now separated into two parts as the man dismounted. "How
much do you want?"

"A foot or two will do."

They were now in front of each other, although their faces were not
distinguishable to either. Lanty, who had been following the lines with
her hand, here came upon the end knotted around the last pole. This she
began to untie.

"What a place to hang clothes," he said curiously.

"Mighty dryin', tho'," returned Lanty laconically.

"And your house? Is it near by?" he continued.

"Just down the ridge--ye kin see from the edge. Got a knife?" She had
untied the knot.

"No--yes--wait." He had hesitated a moment and then produced something
from his breast pocket, which he however kept in his hand. As he did not
offer it to her she simply held out a section of the rope between
her hands, which he divided with a single cut. She saw only that the
instrument was long and keen. Then she lifted the flap of the saddle
for him as he attempted to fasten the loose ring with the rope, but
the darkness made it impossible. With an ejaculation, he fumbled in his
pockets. "My last match!" he said, striking it, as he crouched over
it to protect it from the wind. Lanty leaned over also, with her apron
raised between it and the blast. The flame for an instant lit up the
ring, the man's dark face, mustache, and white teeth set together as
he tugged at the girth, and Lanty's brown, velvet eyes and soft, round
cheek framed in the basket. Then it went out, but the ring was secured.

"Thank you," said the ma