e nodded, but she acted upon the supposition that he did, and
took the lead-rope from Gil's hand.

"Shall I be hurried and worried--and shall I sob?" she asked, with the
little smile at the corners of her eyes and just easing the line of her
lips.

Robert Grant Burns seemed to make a quick decision. "Sure," he said.
"You saw the action as Miss Gay went through it. Do as she did; only
we'll let you have your own ideas of saddling the horse." He turned
his head toward Pete and made a very slight gesture, and Pete grinned.
"All ready? Start the action!" After that he did not help her by a
single suggestion. He tapped Pete upon the shoulder, and stood with his
feet far apart and his hands on his hips, watching her very intently.

Jean was plainly startled, just at first, by the business-like tone in
which he gave the signal. Then she laughed a little. "Oh, I forgot.
I must be hurried and worried--and I must sob," she corrected herself.

So she hurried, and every movement she made counted for something
accomplished. She picked up the bridle and shortened her hold upon the
lead rope, and discovered that the sorrel had a trick of throwing up
his head and backing away from the bit. She knew how to deal with that
habit, however; but in her haste she forgot to look as worried as
Muriel had looked, and so appeared to her audience as being merely
determined. She got the bridle on, and then she saddled the sorrel.
And for good measure she picked up the reins, caught the stirrup and
went up, pivoting the horse upon his hind feet as though she meant to
dash madly off into the distance. But she only went a couple of rods
before she pulled him up sharply and dismounted.

"That didn't take me long, did it?" she asked. "I could have hurried a
lot more if I had known the horse." Then she stopped dead still and
looked at Robert Grant Burns.

"Oh, my goodness, I forgot to sob!" she gasped. And she caught her hat
brim and pulling her Stetson more firmly down upon her head, turned and
ran up the path to the house, and shut herself into her room.

CHAPTER XII

TO "DOUBLE" FOR MURIEL GAY

While she breakfasted unsatisfactorily upon soda crackers and a bottle
of olives which happened to have been left over from a previous
luncheon, Jean meditated deeply upon the proper beginning of a book.
The memory of last night came to her vividly, and she smiled while she
fished with a pair of scissors for an olive. She would start th