e could see that she threw out her hand helplessly. "Well, I may as
well 'fess up. I don't remember you at all. It's horrid of me, when
you rode up in that lovely, unconventional way. But you see, at dances
one doesn't think of the men as individuals; they're just good or bad
partners. It resolves itself, you see, into a question of feet. If I
should dance with you again,--_did_ I dance with you?"

Weary shot a quick, eloquent glance in her direction. He did not say
anything.

Miss Satterly blushed. "I was going to say, if I danced with you again
I should no doubt remember you perfectly."

Weary was betrayed into a smile. "If I could dance in these boots, I'd
take off my spurs and try and identify myself. But I guess I'll have
to ask yuh to take my word for it that we're acquainted."

"Oh, I will. I meant to, all along. Why aren't you in town,
celebrating? I thought I was the only unpatriotic person in the
country."

"I just came from town," Weary told her, choosing, his words carefully
while yet striving to be truthful. No man likes confessing to a woman
that he has been run away with. "I--er--broke my bridle-bit, back a
few miles" (it was fifteen, if it were a rod) "and so I rode in here to
get one of Joe's. I didn't want to bother anybody, but Glory seemed to
think this was where the trail ended."

Miss Satterly laughed again. "It certainly was funny--you trying to
get him away, and being so still about it. I _heard_ you whispering
swear-words, and I wanted to scream! I just couldn't keep still any
longer. Is he balky?"

"I don't know what he is--now," said Weary plaintively. "He was, at
that time. He's generally what happens to be the most dev--mean under
the circumstances."

"Well, maybe he'll consent to being led to the stable; he looks as if
he had a most unmerciful master!" (Weary, being perfectly innocent,
blushed guiltily) "But I'll forgive you riding him like that, and make
for you a pitcher of lemonade and give you some cake while he rests.
You certainly must not ride back with him so tired."

Fresh lemonade sounded tempting, after that ride. And being lectured
was not at all what he had expected from the schoolma'am--and who can
fathom the mind of a man? Weary gave her one complex glance, laid his
hand upon the bridle and discovered that Glory, having done what
mischief he could, was disposed to be very meek. At the corral gate
Weary looked back.

"At dances," he muse