When a fellow lives in his
saddle, almost, he comes to think a great deal of it, and he is
reluctant under any circumstances, to surrender it to another; to have a
man deliberately confiscate it with the authority which lies in a lump
of lead the size of a child thumb is not pleasant.
Through Keith's brain flashed a dozen impracticable plans, and one that
offered a slender--very slender--chance of success. If he could get a
little closer! He moved over beside Rex an unbuckling the cinch of
Beatrice's saddle, pulled it sullenly off.
"Now, put your saddle on that there Rex horse, and cinch it tight!"
Keith picked up the saddle--his saddle, and threw it across Rex's back,
raging inwardly at his helplessness. To lose his saddle worse, to let
Beatrice lose her horse. Lord! a pretty figure he must cut in her eyes!
"Dry weather we're havin'," Kelly remarked politely to Beatrice;
without, however, looking in her direction. "Prairie fires are gittin'
t' be the regular thing, I notice."
Beatrice studied his face, and found no ulterior purpose for the words.
"Yes," she agreed, as pleasantly as she could, in view of the
disquieting circumstances. "I helped fight a prairie-fire last week over
this way. We were out all night."
"Prairie-fires is mean things t' handle, oncet they git started. I
always hate t' see 'em git hold of the grass.
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