"Hobbles," he chided, "we were showing off. I'm disappointed.... I'm also surprised. I'd clean forgotten a horse rears, though I've seen it in pictures. Dakota, should I wrap myself round the pommel when she does that?"
But Dakota was too busy with troubles of his own. When the two riders pulled up, Isabel was off first. With an angry flush she snatched Dakota's quirt from his unresisting hand.
"If you use your whip once more, Dakota, I'll never ride with you again. I don't want to call you a brute, but I got quite as much speed out of my horse without punishing him."
Dakota was staring down into her indignant eyes, too surprised to speak.
Stamford cocked an eye at him. "When you hang and quarter him, Miss Bulkeley, I'd like you to save those chaps. I think they'd become me."
Isabel's anger had already fled before Dakota's helplessness. She laughed apologetically.
"It's all right, Dakota. I suppose I'm not used to Western ways. But I won't get used to that."
Dakota took off his Stetson. "Not used to them! By Samson, miss, there's nothing in the West can beat you! If you could come along with us on the ranges we'd show you life. We're going to be busy out there for the next couple of months."
"Couldn't I come?" asked Isabel innocently.
Dakota looked at the other cowboys, and they all laughed, without explaining.