"I'm much obliged to you," he said. "I don't like to be beaten, and it's a thing that doesn't happen very often. Besides, when a horse is too much for a man it's kind of humiliating. There's something that doesn't strike one as quite fitting in the principle of the thing."
Brooke laughed. "I'm not sure it's worth while to worry very much over a point of that kind, especially when it seems likely to lead to nothing beyond the probability of being pitched into a river."
"Still," said the stranger, with the little twinkle showing plainer in his eyes, "in this case it was the other man who fell in."
"I fancy it quite frequently is," said Brooke, reflectively. "That is usually the result of meddling."
The stranger nodded, and quietly inspected him. "You have been here some time, but you are an Englishman," he said.
"I am," said Brooke. "Is there any reason why I should hide the fact?"
"You couldn't do it. How long have you been here?"
"Four years in all, I think."
"What did you come out for?"
Brooke was accustomed to Western brusquerie, and there was nothing in his companion's manner which made the question offensive.