so I am, ma'am," he said gleefully; "I reckon I'm sure a box-head!"

He handed her down a minute later, beside Uncle Jepson and Aunt Martha,
and he lingered another moment near her, for his proximity to her had set
his blood tingling, and there was an unnamable yearning in his breast to
be near her. He had passed hours in looking upon her picture, dreaming of
this minute, or another like it, and now that his dream had come true he
realized that fulfilment was sweeter than anticipation. He was hugely
pleased with her.

"She's a lot better lookin' than her picture," he told himself as he
watched her. She had her back to him, talking with her relatives, but she
did not need to face him to arouse his worship. "Didn't I know she was
little," he charged himself, estimating her height, "she won't come
anywhere near reachin' my shoulder."

He had not forgotten Masten. And a humorous devil sported in his eye as
he wheeled his pony and fixed his gaze on that gentleman.

"Speciments travel around most anywheres," he reflected. "This here's a
swell head with a grouch. I reckon he ain't a serious friend of hers, or
she wouldn't have stood for me rescuin' her when he offered himself that
generous." The recollection convulsed him, and he bowed his head over the
pony's neck to hide the laugh. When he looked up, it was to see Masten
standing rigid, watching him, wrath on his face.

"I suppose I'm to stand here and freeze while you sit over there and
laugh your fool head off!" shouted the Easterner. "I've got some dry
clothing in my trunk on the wagon, which I might put on, if I could
induce you to hurry a little."

"Why, shucks. I come mighty near forgettin' you, Willard," said the
rider. "An' so you've got other clothes! Only they're in your trunk on
the buckboard, an' you can't get 'em. An' you're freezin' an' I'm
laughin' at you. You've got a heap of trouble, ain't you, Willard. An'
all because you was dead set on goin' to the left when you ought to have
gone to the right."

"Do hurry! Wont you, please?" said the girl's voice, close to his
stirrup.

He looked guiltily at her, for he had been about to say some vitriolic
things to Masten, having almost lost patience with him. But at her words
his slow good nature returned.

"I'm sure goin' to hurry, ma'am."

He urged the pony into the water again, rode to the buckboard, stepped
off, and kneeling in the seat reached into the water and worked with the
harness. Then, walking a