er, and he irritated her by
his continued ease of breath under the strain, while her own "wind" that
she had thought so well of in Kensington was exhausted by the first
moments of effort. She believed him guilty of a polite fiction when he
explained that the altitude made all the difference. She disbelieved his
tale of the lake water's coldness--it was annoying to be told that even
he wanted no more than a single plunge in it--and bathed there one day
to her undoing. She refused to believe that he could shoot accurately
with a rifle that made so much noise, or with a revolver that wobbled
when one tried to hold it still, until he had demonstrated these
matters. And she refused to concede that she could not ride a certain
half-broken little mare--which Ewing rode without apparent
difficulty--until the mare proved it to the satisfaction of all
concerned.

These little disbeliefs were not unpleasant to Ewing. He revenged
himself for having been proved a "duffer" at her own games.

It was on their return from an afternoon's fishing one day that they
found Bartell bestowing Cooney on his sister.

"I bought him for you from Pierce," he was explaining. "Of course Virgie
can ride him until you're fit again."

The sick woman greeted her old friend formally in the presence of the
others. But when they had gone inside she led the little roan around to
the corral, and there, sheltered by its wall, she put an arm tightly
over his lowered neck and laid her face to his with fond little words of
greeting and remembrance. He had carried her so well on a day when
nothing had happened; when she was a girl herself, it almost seemed,
more curious of the world than knowing.

That had been an age--a year--ago. The little horse had been bravely
doing his work, carrying his inconsequent burdens as they listed, while
she had been losing herself in protests. She had begun doing that, it
seemed, the first day he brought her there. She wondered if he could
remember it. She doubted that; but at least he remembered Ewing and
loved him. She clasped the arm more tightly about his neck, and the
little horse whinnied, pawing the earth with a small forefoot, and
moving his head up and down in a knowing way. To the woman he had the
effect of seeking to return her caress, so that in a moment she was
sobbing in a sudden weakness of love for him.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE WHITE TIME

The days went, shortening. She kept to her couch through all bu