"Archie never would have reached the horse alive had not brave
Etheldene's whip been flicked with painful force across the bull's eyes.
That blow saved Archie, though the girl's horse was wounded on the flank."
A minute after both were galloping speedily across the plain, all danger over; for the bull was still rooting around the tree, apparently thinking that his tormentors had vanished through the earth.
"How best can I thank you?" Archie was saying.
"By saying nothing about it," was Etheldene's answer.
"But you have saved my life, child."
"A mere bagatelle, as father says," said this saucy Queensland maiden, with an arch look at her companion. But Archie did not look arch as he put the next question.
"Which do you mean is the bagatelle, Etheldene, my life, or the saving of it?"
"Yes, you may call me Etheldene—father's friends do—but don't, please, call me child again."
"I beg your pardon, Etheldene."
"It is granted, sir."