n by now, and you ought to be thankful."

"So I am," he hastened to say, "very! But," he added, unwilling to give
up his contention, "I have crossed the Swan before."

"Not when it was in flood."

"Yes, when it was in flood, higher than now."

"Not where the banks are rocky."

"No-o!" he hesitated.

"There, then, you WOULD have been drowned but for my lariat!" she cried,
triumphantly.

To this he doubtfully assented.

They were much alike, in high temper, in enthusiasm, in vivid
imagination, and in sensitive feeling. When the Old Timer came in Gwen
triumphantly introduced The Pilot as having been rescued from a watery
grave by her lariat, and again they fought out the possibilities
of drowning and of escape till Gwen almost lost her temper, and was
appeased only by the most profuse expressions of gratitude on the part
of The Pilot for her timely assistance. The Old Timer was perplexed. He
was afraid to offend Gwen and yet unwilling to be cordial to her guest.
The Pilot was quick to feel this, and, soon after tea, rose to go.
Gwen's disappointment showed in her face.

"Ask him to stay, dad," she said, in a whisper. But the half-hearted
invitation acted like a spur, and The Pilot was determined to set off.

"There's a bad storm coming," she said; "and besides," she added,
triumphantly "you can't cross the Swan."

This settled it, and the most earnest prayers of the Old Timer could not
have held him back.

We all went down to see him cross, Gwen leading her pinto. The Swan was
far over its banks, and in the middle running swift and strong.
Louis snorted, refused and finally plunged. Bravely he swam, till the
swift-running water struck him, and over he went on his side, throwing
his rider into the water. But The Pilot kept his head, and, holding
by the stirrups, paddled along by Louis' side. When they were half-way
across Louis saw that he had no chance of making the landing; so, like
a sensible horse, he turned and made for the shore. Here, too, the banks
were high, and the pony began to grow discouraged.

"Let him float down further!" shrieked Gwen, in anxious excitement; and,
urging her pinto down the bank, she coaxed the struggling pony down the
stream till opposite a shelf of rock level with the high water. Then she
threw her lariat, and, catching Louis about the neck and the horn of
his saddle, she held taut, till, half drowned, he scrambled up the bank,
dragging The Pilot with him.

"Oh, I'm so glad