"I was feeling so much better I decided I would go home a roundabout way; perhaps to the top of Black Hill; perhaps up Horse Wash, where I might meet father, who would be on his way home from Fair Oaks where he went this morning."
"I see."
"Well, so I met Snip, who was on his way to the Cross-Triangle. I knew, of course, that old Snip would be your horse." She smiled, as though to rob her words of any implied criticism of his horsemanship.
"Exactly," he agreed understandingly.
"And I was afraid that something might have happened; though I couldn't see how that could be, either, with Snip. And so I caught him—"
He interrupted eagerly. "How?"
"Why, with my riata," she returned, in a matter-of-fact tone, wondering at his question.
"You caught my horse with your riata?" he repeated slowly.
"And pray how should I have caught him?" she asked.
"But—but, didn't he run?"