bread an' meat. Don't
tell any one. Look what a ragamuffin I am.... An' there's Wildfire. I
don't want him seen till I'm--on my feet again. I know riders....
That's all. If you want to be so good--come."

"I'll come," replied Lucy, simply.

"Thank you. I owe you--a lot.... What did you say your name was?"

"Lucy--Lucy Bostil."

"Oh, I forgot.... Are you sure you tied Wildfire good an' tight?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I'll go now. I hope you'll be better to-morrow."

Lucy hesitated, with her hand on the King's bridle. She did not like to
leave this young man lying there helpless on the desert. But what else
could she do? What a strange adventure had befallen her! At the
following thought that it was not yet concluded she felt a little stir
of excitement at her pulses. She was so strangely preoccupied that she
forgot it was necessary for her to have a step to mount Sage King. She
realized it quickly enough when she attempted it. Then she led him off
in the sage till she found a rock. Mounting, she turned him straight
across country, meaning to cut out miles of travel that would have been
necessary along her back-trail. Once she looked back. The rider was not
visible; the black horse, Nagger, was out of sight, but Wildfire,
blazing in the sun, watched her depart.

CHAPTER IX

Lucy Bostil could not control the glow of strange excitement under
which she labored, but she could put her mind on the riding of Sage
King. She did not realize, however, that she was riding him under the
stress and spell of that excitement.

She had headed out to make a short cut, fairly sure of her direction,
yet she was not unaware of the fact that she would be lost till she ran
across her trail. That might be easy to miss and time was flying. She
put the King to a brisk trot, winding through the aisles of the sage.

Soon she had left the monument region and was down on the valley floor
again. From time to time she conquered a desire to look back. Presently
she was surprised and very glad to ride into a trail where she saw the
tracks she had made coming out. With much relief she turned Sage King
into this trail, and then any anxiety she had felt left her entirely.
But that did not mitigate her excitement. She eased the King into a
long, swinging lope. And as he warmed to the work she was aroused also.
It was hard to hold him in, once he got out of a trot, and after miles
and miles of this, when she thought best to slow down he nearly pulled