"
"Oh!" Beatrice gasped and blushed. She might have known, she thought,
that the fellow would not take all this trouble if his horse was in a
condition to buck. Then: "My elbows hurt. I--I think I should like to
sit down."
"Sure," said the man politely. "Make yourself comfortable. I ain't used
t' dealin' with ladies. But you got t' set still, yuh know, and not try
any tricks. I can put up a mighty swift gun play when I need to--and
your bein' a lady wouldn't cut no ice in a case uh that kind."
"Thank you." Beatrice sat down upon the nearest rock, folded her hands
meekly and looked from him to Keith, who seethed to claim a good deal of
the man's attention. She observed that, at a long breath from Keith, his
captor was instantly alert.
"Maybe your elbows ache, too," he remarked dryly. "They'll git over it,
though; I've knowed a man t' grab at the clouds upwards of an hour, an'
no harm done."
"That's encouraging, I'm sure." Keith shifted to the other foot.
"How's that sorrel?" demanded the man. "Can he go?"
Keith hesitated a second.
"Indeed he can go!" put in Beatrice eagerly. "He's every bit as good as
Redcloud."
"Is that sorrel yours?" The man's eyes shifted briefly to her face.
"No-o." Beatrice, thinking how she had meant to own him, blushed.
"That accounts for it." He laughed unpleasantly.
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