e clipping, Helen did not choose to ride. So
Pat was permitted the doubtful pleasure of loafing about in the
inclosure. Then one morning, when the winter day was unusually warm, he
awoke to a great clatter of hoofs outside the corral. Directly he saw a
party of young people, men and girls under the chaperonage of a comely
matron, dismounting in high spirits. As the party swung down he saw his
mistress appear from the house, attired in her riding-habit, and,
understanding the object of all this, since these parties had become
frequent in the past two months, he pressed close to the fence, anxious
to be off. The Mexican bridled and saddled him; his mistress and the
others mounted; soon all clattered out upon the river-trail.

The day was beautiful, and Helen, riding, as usual, beside Stephen, both
in the rear, enjoyed the morning keenly. Overhead, out of a shimmering
azure sky, the sun beamed mildly down, penetrating the chill of the
morning, yet leaving enough tang to bring a bloom to their cheeks. On
their left the river, high with melted snows from the north, moved in
slow eddies near the shore, quicker eddies away from the shore, steady
and swift flow in the middle--a changing, fascinating panorama. There
fell a long silence before she turned to the young man beside her.

"Well, Mr. Native," she began, smiling, "I hope you don't mean to bury
yourself this morning! For more than a month you have had very little to
say to me. I don't like it, because I can't understand it, and so I
won't have it!" Then she became serious. "Whatever is the matter,
Stephen?"

Pat, walking slowly beside the unfriendly horse, was attentive. He heard
his mistress's voice, and somehow knew she was troubled. Then directly
he had positive proof of this, for she suddenly began to stroke his neck
and shoulders. Always she did this when thoughtful, but though he
strained his ears for further sounds of her voice, he did not hear her.
What he did hear presently was the voice of the young man, and having
learned long before to discriminate between different shades of the
human voice, he knew from its low and tense quality that the topic was a
vital one. He listened sharply, heedful of any least change of
intonation that might be interpreted as a climax. But instead he was
relieved presently to hear the voice of his mistress again, breaking in
upon the low, constrained tones of the young man.

Pat held his ears steadily back. He noted that her voic