"I have tried it," groaned the Professor feelingly.
"Dakota," said Isabel shyly, "I ride—only a little, I suppose, compared with your Western girls."
"I knew you did, miss," said Dakota gallantly. "I could tell from the cut o' you. But I bet"—he looked the Professor up and down with professional eye—"I bet I could have him riding in a week—only I ain't got time," he added hastily. "I know the shape when I see it. Now, the tenderfoot here"—Stamford squirmed—"he'll never make a rider. Ain't got the right-shaped legs, nor the body-swing. The minute I seed you——"
He became conscious of his unusual loquacity and stopped.
"If you'll teach me Western ways of riding. Dakota," smiled Isabel.
The cowboy grinned and rubbed his hand across his lips in sheer delight.
"Shore, miss." He looked up at the clock. "Is it too late now?"
"They're going to be with us for months, Dakota," laughed Mary Aikens. "We mustn't unfold all our pleasures the first day."
Dakota rose to go, started to stretch, bethought himself, and addressed Cockney.
"About them staples, Mr. Aikens. We can't do much more to the new corrals till we have 'em."