He smiled a little at the disgust she heaped upon herself.

"You'll have to ride my horse to your home. How far is it?"

"Five miles, maybe." The girl looked at her ankle resentfully. It was
plain that she did not relish the idea of being under obligations to
him. But to attempt to walk so far was out of the question. Even now
when she was not using the foot she suffered a good deal of pain.

"Cornell isn't a bit skittish. He's an old plug. You'll find his gait
easy," Beaudry told her.

If she had not wanted to keep her weight from the wounded ankle, she
would have rejected scornfully his offer to help her mount, for she was
used to flinging her lithe body into the saddle as easily as her
brothers did. The girl had read in books of men aiding women to reach
their seat on the back of a horse, but she had not the least idea how
the thing was done. Because of her ignorance she was embarrassed. The
result was that they boggled the business, and it was only at the third
attempt that he got her on as gracefully as if she had been a sack of
meal.

"Sorry. I'm awfully awkward," he apologized.

Again an angry flush stained her cheeks. The stupidity had been hers,
not his. She resented it that he was ready to take the blame,--read
into his manner a condescension he did not at all feel.

"I know whose fault it was. I'm not a fool," she snapped brusquely.

It added to her irritation at making such an exhibition of clumsiness
that she was one of the best horsewomen in the Territory. Her life had
been an outdoor one, and she had stuck to the saddle on the back of
many an outlaw bronco without pulling leather. There were many things
of which she knew nothing. The ways of sophisticated women, the
conventions of society, were alien to her life. She was mountain-bred,
brought up among men, an outcast even from the better class of Battle
Butte. But the life of the ranch she knew. That this soft-cheeked boy
from town should think she did not know how to get on a horse was a
little too humiliating. Some day, if she ever got a chance, she would
let him see her vault into the saddle without touching the stirrups.

The young man walking beside the horse might still be smooth-cheeked,
but he had the muscles of an athlete. He took the hills with a light,
springy step and breathed easily after stiff climbing. His mind was
busy making out what manner of girl this was. She was new to his
experience. He had met no