As he passed it over something plunked lightly in the sand between the ponies.
“Oh, dear! Wait! I—I did drop it, Mart!”
“Confound it! I knew you would!” Mart reined in. “Don’t let your mare tromp it into the sand now.”
They dismounted, lighted matches, and groped about through the sand. The male was blusteringly angry. Meekly the girl remained quiet under his deluge of rebuke, seeming to sense for once her many shortcomings.
“Please don’t scold, Martie!” she begged. “We’ll find it.”
“Yes, we will—not! Now you’ve ruined everything! Confound it, Nita, you’re always buttin’ in and puttin’ the kibosh on things!”
“I’m so sorry. I—surely we’ll find it.”
“If I do you’ll never see ’er ag’in; don’t ferget that!”
“All right. Only don’t be mean.”
“Ah!” Mart sucked in his breath. “I got ’er! Almost hid in the sand. Now you keep yer nose outa what don’t concern ye, will ye?”