through the blanched swale-grass, which rose
high as the horse's girth.

Young Burleson drew bridle; the slim youth who sat his saddle so easily
must be the deputy of the sick fire-warden; this was the time and the
place.

As the young rider galloped up, Burleson leaned forward, offering his
hand with an easy, pleasant greeting. The hand was unnoticed, the
greeting breathlessly returned; two grave, gray eyes met his, and
Burleson found himself looking into the flushed face of a young girl.

When he realized this, he took off his cap, and she inclined her head,
barely acknowledging his salute.

"I am Mr. Elliott's daughter," she said; "you are Mr. Burleson?"

Burleson had the honor of presenting himself, cap in hand.

"I am my father's deputy," said the girl, quietly, gathering her bridle
and wheeling her horse. "I read your note. Have you reason to believe
that an attempt has been made to fire the Owl Vlaie?"

There was a ring of business in her voice that struck him as amusingly
delightful--and such a sweet, clear voice, too, untinged with the
slightest taint of native accent.

"Yes," said Burleson, gravely, "I'm afraid that somebody tried to burn
the vlaie. I think that a change in the wind alone saved us from a bad
fire."

"Shall we ride over?" inquired the girl, moving forward with unconscious
grace.

Burleson ranged his big horse alongside; she set her mount at a gallop,
and away they went, wheeling into the swale, knee-deep in dry, silvery
grasses, until the deputy fire-warden drew bridle with a side-flung
caution: "Muskrats! Look out for a cropper!"

Now, at a walk, the horses moved forward side by side through the pale,
glistening sea of grass stretching out on every side.

Over a hidden pond a huge heron stood guard, stiff and shapeless as a
weather-beaten stake. Blackbirds with crimson-slashed shoulders rose in
clouds from the reeds, only to settle again as they passed amid a
ceaseless chorus of harsh protest. Once a pair of summer duck came
speeding overhead, and Burleson, looking up, exclaimed:

"There's a bird I never shoot at. It's too beautiful."

The girl turned her head, serious gray eyes questioning his.

"Have you ever seen a wood-duck?--a drake? in full plumage?" he asked.

"Often--before Mr. Grier came."

Burleson fell silent, restless in his saddle, then said:

"I hope you will see many wood-duck now. My boats on Spirit Water are
always at Mr. Elliott's disposal--and at yours.