es.

Then, to the glad relief of the rider, an opening showed through the
trees close ahead, and in another moment Cooney had galloped her out
into an extensive clearing. Swiftly about its edge he circled, to thwart
a last dash of his prey for the glad, free grazing life from which she
had so summarily been withdrawn. Half round the clearing they went in
the startled gaze of a person who had been at work over a deer hide in
the shade of a mighty hemlock. Then, with lightning swerve pursued and
pursuers fled straight and swiftly across the clearing--Cooney close on
the flanks of his prize--into the astounded vision of Ewing's kid, who
had sauntered to the open door at the sound of flying hoofs.

Hereupon the little roan abandoned his task, halting before the figure
in the doorway. The halt was so abrupt that Mrs. Laithe never knew
whether she dismounted or was thrown.

They looked at each other helplessly, the lady's eyes still wide with
the dismay that had been growing in them since Cooney's mysterious
seizure. She felt herself trembling and she tried to smile. The young
man released the arm he had seized to support her and stepped back,
putting a hand up to Cooney, who had been mouthing his sleeve with
little whinnies of rejoicing.

Then the lady heard the voice of Ewing's kid, heard him say with quick,
embarrassed utterance, "It's too bad you went to all that trouble. We're
not milking Clara any more."

Still breathing rapidly, she turned half away, confused by this cryptic
utterance.

"Clara?--I didn't know--I don't--I beg your pardon, but I'm afraid I
don't understand."

"Yes, we don't drive her in any more. Midge came in fresh a few weeks
ago, and we let Clara run along with her calf again."

Pondering this item, she put her hands to her head. One of them found
her cap which a low branch had raked awry; the other grasped a tangle of
hair that muffled the other side of her head, regrettably out of place.
From this surprising touch of things she divined the picture she must be
making. More, she saw herself dash into this sylvan opening apparently
in mad pursuit of a frenzied cow; for, as a requisite to keeping her
seat in the saddle, she had been compelled to seem as eager in the chase
as Cooney himself. She sank--collapsed, rather--upon the broad slab of
stone before the door, laughing weakly.

The youth looked down at her with puzzled eyes in which she saw alarm
rising.

"But I didn't try to chase your