"I'm right sorry, miss, or madam—" he was beginning when the eager baying of Poison sounded across the reservation, and he realized that he no longer held her attention.
"The dogs are going to get that coyote!" she cried. "And here I am helpless, unhorsed by you! The most exciting hunt the Strathconna Club ever held, too." Her red lips quivered, adding to his torture. "I'd have been in at the death if you'd——"
"It's not too late yet!" he exclaimed eagerly. "Take Silver, here, and cut across country. He's sure-footed and easily can outrun any horse in that bunch on the hill."
"But you——"
She was smiling over a prospect of triumph yet possible, though seemingly lost. To finish ahead on a strange horse would be a real victory!
"I'll rope your mare and follow."
As he spoke, he took his string from the saddle horn. Cupping his hands, he tossed her into the worn saddle that obviously was large enough for two of her mold. Places he found for the toes of her small boots in the straps that swung his stirrups.
A glance toward the field showed her that the other members of the Strathconna Hunt Club, assured of her safety, had resumed the chase. Turning to him, her eager eyes danced a mischievous acceptance of his offer. A word from him sent the well-named Silver on his way, probably wondering in his equine brain what was the meaning of the suddenly lightened burden.
For a moment he stood staring after her. "My Stetson's off to you, young woman. You're a blue ribbon for nerve, a rose for looks; you sure can ride and you've got the courage of one of our own. Here's hoping you gather a brush!"
But his heart was hammering a troubled query. What a yearling she must think him?