atever shall we do now?" asked Sheila. She had identified herself
utterly with this team, this load, this driver. She brushed the snow from
her skirt, climbed down from the drift to the edge of the mire by
Thatcher's elbow. The team stood with hanging heads, panting and
steaming, glad of the rest and the release.

"Well, ma'am," said Thatcher, looking down at the loyal, anxious face
with a certain tenderness, "I'm agoin' to do one of two things. I'm
agoin' to lead my team over The Hill and come back with two more horses
and a hand to help me or I'm agoin' to set here and wait for the stage."

"How long will it be before the stage comes?"

"Matter of four or five hours."

"Oh, dear! Then I can't possibly overtake my--my friend, Miss Blake!"

"No, ma'am. But you can walk on a quarter-mile; take a rest at Duff's
place top of The Hill. I can pick you up when I come by; like as not I'll
spend the night at Duff's. By the time I get my load together it'll be
along dark--Hullo!" He interrupted himself, lifting his chin. "I hear
hosses now."

They both listened. "No wagon," said Thatcher.

Five minutes later, a slouching horseman, cigarette in mouth, shaggy
chaps on long legs, spurred and booted and decorated with a red
neck-scarf came picturesquely into view. His pony dug sturdy feet into
the steep roadside, avoiding the mud of the road itself. The man led two
other horses, saddled, but empty of riders. He stopped and between him
and Thatcher took place one of the immensely tranquil, meditative, and
deliberate conversations of the Far West.

Sheila's quick, Celtic nerves tormented her. At last she broke in with an
inspiration. "Couldn't I hire one of your horses?" she asked, rising from
an overturned sack of which she had made a resting-place.

The man looked down at her with grave, considerate eyes.

"Why, yes, ma'am. I reckon you could," he said gently. "They're right
gentle ponies," he added.

"Are they yours?"

"One of 'em is. The other belongs to Kearney, dude-wrangler up the
valley. But, say, if you're goin' to Rusty you c'd leave my hoss at
Lander's and I c'd get him when I come along. I am stoppin' here to help
with the load. It would cost you nothin', lady. The hoss has got to go
over to Rusty and I'd be pleased to let you ride him. You're no weight."

"How good of you!" said Sheila. "I'll take the best care of him I know
how to take. Could I find my way? How far is it?"

"All downhill after a half-mile