n again.

Haig reached a hand to her. She took it, and let him draw her to her
feet.

"Try the ankle--just a step!" he commanded.

She rested her weight on her left foot.

"Oh!" she cried out, and looked helplessly at Haig.

A shadow, unmistakably of annoyance, passed over his face.

"You're not going to faint, are you?" he asked, looking keenly at
her.

Her color always came and went easily, and now, a little frightened by
her bold deception, she was pale again.

"No--I think not," she said. ("At any rate not here," she might have
added.)

"Can you ride to the corrals?" was his next question.

The look of annoyance was now fixed on his face, but it did not
discourage her.

"Yes, if--"

She looked doubtfully at Tuesday. Thereupon, without a word, Haig led
the horse close to her, but placed so that she was at Tuesday's right
side instead of the left. Then, while she supported herself with one
hand on his shoulder, he raised her right foot, and thrust it into the
stirrup; and, with a hand under each of her arms, lifted her until she
was able to throw the left foot over, and her body into the saddle.
Once more Marion bit her lip. His action was as devoid of personal
interest as Pete's had been when he carried her out of the pool; and
she had not come to Philip Haig to be treated like a sack of oats!

Haig mounted his pony, and rode up close beside her; and thus, in
unbroken silence, they arrived at the door of the stable. There Haig
dismounted quickly, stepped briskly around her horse, and almost
before she was aware of his intention, lifted her out of the saddle,
and set her on her feet--all very carefully and gently, but also very
scrupulously, without an unnecessary pressure, without even a glance
into her waiting eyes. What was the man made of? Why would he not look
at her? Why did he not rage at her--if he could do nothing better?
Well, the cat had at least seven lives left!

She almost forgot to limp, but bethought herself in time, and gasped
as he led her to an empty soap box at the side of the stable door.
Having seated her there, he called out to the man on guard at
Sunnysides' corral: "Where's Curly?"

"Down by the crick," was the answer.

"Bring him here! I'll watch the horse."

Thereupon he took the man's place, and stood with his arms crossed on
the top rail of the fence, his eyes fixed on the golden horse. And
Marion felt a real pain at last,--a pang of jealousy. So he preferred
to loo