"Do I ride him--well?" she asked, softly.

"I could never ride him so well."

"Oh, Lin--you just want to please me. Why, Van couldn't ride with you."

"I don't care, Lucy," replied Slone, stoutly. "You rode this horse
perfect. I've found fault with you on the King, on your mustangs, an'
on this black horse Sarch. But on Wildfire! You grow there."

"What will Dad say, and Farlane, and Holley, and Van? Oh, I'll crow
over Van," said Lucy. "I'm crazy to ride Wildfire out before all the
Indians and ranchers and riders, before the races, just to show him
off, to make them stare."

"No, Lucy. The best plan is to surprise them all. Enter your horse for
the race, but don't show up till all the riders are at the start."

"Yes, that'll be best.... And, Lin, only five days more--five days!"

Her words made Slone thoughtful, and Lucy, seeing that, straightway
grew thoughtful, too.

"Sure--only five days more," repeated Slone, slowly.

His tone convinced Lucy that he meant to speak again as he had spoken
once before, precipitating the only quarrel they had ever had.

"Does ANY ONE at Bostil's Ford know you meet me out here?" he asked,
suddenly.

"Only Auntie. I told her the other day. She had been watching me. She
thought things. So I told her."

"What did she say?" went on Slone, curiously.

"She was mad," replied Lucy. "She scolded me. She said.... But, anyway,
I coaxed her not to tell on me."

"I want to know what she said," spoke up the rider, deliberately.

Lucy blushed, and it was a consciousness of confusion as well as
Slone's tone that made her half-angry.

"She said when I was found out there'd be a--a great fuss at the Ford.
There would be talk. Auntie said I'm now a grown-up girl.... Oh, she
carried on! ... Bostil would likely shoot you. And if he didn't some of
the riders would.... Oh, Lin, it was perfectly ridiculous the way
Auntie talked."

"I reckon not," replied Slone. "I'm afraid I've done wrong to let you
come out here.... But I never thought. I'm not used to girls.
I'll--I'll deserve what I get for lettin' you came."

"It's my own business," declared Lucy, spiritedly. "And I guess they'd
better let you alone."

Slone shook his head mournfully. He was getting one of those gloomy
spells that Lucy hated. Nevertheless, she felt a stir of her pulses.

"Lucy, there won't be any doubt about my stand--when I meet Bostil,"
said Slone. Some thought had animated him.

"What do you mean?" Lucy tremb