own animal, and stood a moment quietly
regarding her.

"You want to look at the country all by yourself?" he inquired.

She pretended a start, looking down at him in apparent surprise.

"Why," she prevaricated, "I thought there was no one within miles of
me!"

She saw his eyes flash in the sunlight. "Of course," he drawled,
"there's such an awful darkness that no one could see a pony comin'
across the flat. You think you'll be able to find your way home?"

She flushed guiltily and did not reply. She heard him clambering up
over the loose stones, and presently he stood near her. She made a
pretense of writing.

"Did you stop at the cabin?" she asked without looking up.

He regarded her with amused eyes, standing loosely, his arms folded,
the fingers of his right hand pulling at his chin. "Did I stop?" he
repeated. "I couldn't rightly say. Seems to me as though I did. You
see, I didn't intend to, but I was ridin' down that way an' I thought
I'd stop in an' have a talk with Ben."

"Oh!" Sometimes even a monosyllable is pregnant with mockery.

"But he wasn't there. Nobody was there. I wasn't reckonin' on
everybody runnin' off."

She turned and looked straight at him. "Why," she said, "I shouldn't
think our running away would surprise you. You see, you set us an
example in running away the other day."

He knew instantly that she referred to his precipitate retreat on the
night she had hinted that she intended putting him into her story. She
shot another glance at him and saw his face redden with embarrassment,
but he showed no intention of running now.

"I've been thinkin' of what you said," he returned. "You couldn't put
me into no book. You don't know anything about me. You don't know
what I think. Then how could you do it?"

"Of course," she returned, turning squarely around to him and speaking
seriously, "the story will be fiction, and the plot will have no
foundation in fact. But I shall be very careful to have my characters
talk and act naturally. To do this I shall have to study the people
whom I wish to characterize."

He was moved by an inward mirth. "You're still thinkin' of puttin' me
into the book?" he questioned.

She nodded, smiling.

"Then," he said, very gravely, "you hadn't ought to have told me. You
didn't show so clever there. Ain't you afraid that I'll go to actin'
swelled? If I do that, you'd not have the character you wanted."

"I had thought of that, too,"