chest,
on the side where his heart was. Still, he was of a hopeful nature and
presently tried again.

"How many times must I say I'm sorry, Schoolma'am? You don't look so
pretty when you're mad; you've got dimples, remember, and yuh ought to
give 'em a chance. Let's sit down on this rock while I square myself.
Come on." His tone was wheedling in the extreme.

Miss Satterly, not replying a word, kept straight on up the hill; and
Weary, sighing heavily, followed.

"Don't you want to ride Glory a ways? He's real good, to-day. He put
in the whole of yesterday working out all the cussedness that's been
accumulating in his system for a week, so he's dead gentle. I'll lead
him, for yuh."

"Thank you," said Miss Satterly. "I prefer to walk."

Weary sighed again, but clung to his general hopefulness, as was his
nature. It took a great deal to rouse Weary; perhaps the schoolma'am
was trying to find just how much.

"Say, you'd a died laughing if you'd seen old Glory yesterday; he liked
to scared Slim plumb to death. We were working in the big corral and
Slim got down on one knee to fix his spur. Glory saw him kneel down,
and gave a running jump and went clear over Slim's head. Slim hit for
the closest fence, and he never looked back till he was clean over on
the other side. Mamma! I was sure amused. I thought Glory had done
about everything there was to do--but I tell yuh, that horse has got an
imagination that will make him famous some day."

For the first time since the day of his spectacular introduction to
her, Miss Satterly displayed absolutely no interest in the
eccentricities of Glory. Slowly it began to dawn upon Weary that she
did not intend to thaw that evening. He glanced at her sidelong, and
his eyes had a certain gleam that was not there five minutes before.
He swung along beside her till they reached the top of the hill, fell
behind without a word and mounted Glory.

When he overtook Miss Satterly, he lifted his hat to her nonchalantly,
touched up Glory with his spurs, and clattered away down the coulee,
leaving the schoolma'am in a haze of yellow dust and bewilderment far
in the rear.

The next morning Miss Satterly went very early to the school-house--for
what purpose she did not say. A meadow-lark on the doorstep greeted
her with his short, sweet ripple of sound and then flew to a nearby
sage bush and watched her curiously. She looked about her half
expectant, half disappointed.