"A year out
here, and you would be a real American, Sir Redmond."
Sir Redmond came near saying, "The Lord forbid!" but he thought better
of it. Beatrice was intensely loyal to her countrymen, unfortunately,
and would certainly resent such a remark; but, for all that, he thought
it.
For a mile or two she held to her resolve, and then, at the top of a
long hill overlooking the canyon where they were to eat their lunch, out
came her kodak again.
"This must be Lost Canyon, for Dick has stopped by those trees. I want
to get just one view from here. Steady, Goldie! Dear me, this horse does
detest standing still!"
"I fancy he is anxious to get down with the others. Let me hold him for
you. Whoa, there!" He put a hand upon the bridle, a familiarity Goldie
resented. He snorted and dodged backward, to the ruin of the picture
Beatrice was endeavoring to get.
"Now you've frightened him. Whoa, pet! It's of no use to try; he won't
stand."
"Let me have your camera. He's getting rather an ugly temper, I think."
Sir Redmond put out his hand again, and again Goldie dodged backward.
"I can do better alone, Sir Redmond." The cheeks of Beatrice were red.
She managed to hold the horse in until her kodak was put safely in its
case, but her temper, as well as Goldie's, was roughened. She hated
spoiling a film, which she was perfectly sure she had done.
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