"Save it! save it!" she called.
"Shall I?" and he pulled himself together.
Dropping his bridle-rein over the pommel of his saddle, standing in his stirrups as steadily as a man in church, he undid the hat with both hands. When he had released it and handed it to its owner, she heard him mutter hoarsely, "My God!"
"Oh, Mr. Ermine, I hope the pin did not prick you."
"No, it wasn't the pin."
"Ah," she ejaculated barely loud enough for him to hear amid the rushing hoof-beats.
The poor man was in earnest, and the idea drove the horses, the hounds, and the coyote out of her mind, and she ran her mount harder than ever. She detested earnest men, having so far in her career with the exception of Mr. Butler found them great bores; but drive as she would, the scout pattered at her side, and she dared not look at him.
These two were by no means near the head of the drive, as the girl's horse was a stager, which had been selected because he was highly educated concerning badger-holes and rocky hillsides.
Orderlies clattered behind them, and Private Patrick O'Dowd and Private Thompson drew long winks at each other.
"Oi do be thinkin' the long bie's harse cud roon fasther eff the divil was afther him. Faith, who'd roon away from a fairy?"