"Here's your trophy, Mrs. Andress," he said, removing his Stetson. "Let me apologize again and in behalf of the three of us for breaking into your hunt."
Her smiling return reminded him of the wiles of widows. "I can forgive you all," she said. "I haven't a doubt that you acted with the best intention, and this silver beauty of yours certainly gave me a flying finish. If you'll help me out of your outrageous saddle, we'll call it quits!"
As Childress gallantly handed her down, a fine-looking old gentleman with pointed beard swung nimbly from the back of a big bay gelding and approached with outstretched hand.
"Let me introduce myself," he began, "I am Ivan MacDonald, cast by fate in the rôle of uncle to this young hoyden. I've warned her repeatedly that this Indian reservation isn't a race course, even though it never has been cursed with barbed wire. I've begged her to be content with a nimble-hoofed cayuse instead of that spindle-shanked thoroughbred, and I hoped I had made some impression upon her. But to-day, through some excess of spirit, she got away from me—from all of us—and raced off after that little wolf as though Old Nick himself were after her. We topped the divide, sir, fearing to find her a bundle of broken bones, but were in time to witness your performance, as superb a piece of horsemanship as I've ever seen, and I've grown white in a horse-and-cow country."
The Strathconna riders, most of them mounted on sure-footed cayuses, who had gathered around, expressed their agreement with MacDonald's praise.
"You speak of me, uncle, as though I were still in pinafores," said the widow, laughing, evidently in fine humor from having outrun the field and been in alone at the death.
"Well, your hair was certainly down your back a few minutes ago," declared the uncle. He turned to the stranger. "You don't know, young man, what a fright was lifted off my mind and heart when you whisked my beloved relative over to your own sturdy mount. Yours is the first masculine arm I ever approved of around her waist."
"Uncle," she protested. "Tell them the truth and spare my blushes. You know that it is the first time you ever saw any one's arm around my waist, whether you approved or not." She looked highly pleased with her repartee on noting that sufficient color had mounted the cheeks of the handsome stranger to show through his coat of tan. Obviously her delight increased when a side glance found Tom Fitzrapp to be frowning, evidently highly annoyed.
"Nothing worth speaking about—what I did," protested the under-cover sergeant, wondering if he really was embarrassed or merely pretending so to be.
"Any man near enough could have done it," snapped Fitzrapp uncautiously. "Stunt rider shuff!"