"Good luck to you always, Sheila."
"They've left us behind," she said. "Come on! One last good run, Casey!"
Clyde and Farwell, riding decorously at an easy jog trot, heard the thunder of hoofs behind them, and turned to see the bay and the buckskin sweep past, encouraged by voice and heel.
"She'll kill herself some day," Farwell ejaculated, and he scolded her roundly when they rode up to where she and Casey had finally halted their blown steeds.
"Listen to him!" cried Sheila, in derision. "As if I didn't savvy a horse! All right, my lord, I won't do it again till next time. And now, Casey, you and Clyde must not come any farther. It will be dark before you get back."
"If you want to be rid of us——" he suggested.
"You've been sorry for yourself for the last hour, and you needn't deny it," she retorted.
Clyde and Casey rode slowly homeward through the falling dusk. For the first time since his return they were really alone together. She made him tell her all that had occurred, down to the minutest detail.
"But now there will be no more trouble of any kind," she predicted.
"Thanks to you."