“It was splendid! The saddle turned—that’s all!”
He slowly surveyed the scene of his late exploit.
“Ye—es, that was some riding—for a while,” he admitted. “But you see, that saddle now, scarred up that way—why, they’ll think the eohippus wasted me and then dragged the saddle off under a tree. Leastways, they’ll say they think so, frequent. Best not to let on and to make no excuses. It’ll be easier that way. We’re great on guying here. That’s most all the fun we have. We sure got this joshing game down fine. Just wondering what all the boys’d say—that was why I didn’t get out of the water at first, before—before I thought I was asleep, you know.”
“So you’ll actually tell a lie to keep from being thought a liar? I’m disappointed in you.”
“Why, ma’am, I won’t say anything. They’ll do the talking.”
“It’ll be deceitful, just the same,” she began, and checked herself suddenly. A small twinge struck her at the thought of poor Maud, really sketching on Thumb Butte, and now disconsolately wondering what had become of lunch and fellow-artist; but she quelled this pang with a sage thought of the greatest good to the greatest number, and clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, what a silly I am, to be sure! I’ve got a lunch basket up there, but I forgot all about it in the excitement. I’m sure there’s plenty for two. Shall I bring it down to you or can you climb up if I help you? There’s water in the canteen—and it’s beautiful up there.”
“I can make it, I guess,” said the invited guest—the consummate and unblushing hypocrite. Make it he did, with her strong hand to aid; and the glen rang to the laughter of them. While behind them, all unnoted, Johnny Dines reined up on the hillside; took one sweeping glance at that joyous progress, the scarred hillside, the saddle and the dejected eohippus in the background; grinned comprehension, and discreetly withdrew.