So Miss Stone turned her pony in that direction.
“When do your folks eat supper?” inquired Lin.
“Half-past six. Oh, we've lots of time! Come on.”
“How many miles per hour do you figure that cayuse of yourn can travel?” Lin asked.
“What are you a-talking about, anyway? You're that strange to-day,” said the lady.
“Only if we try to make that canyon, I guess you'll be late settin' the colonel's table,” Lin remarked, his hazel eyes smiling upon her. “That is, if your horse ain't good for twenty miles an hour. Mine ain't, I know. But I'll do my best to stay with yu'.”
“You're the teasingest man—” said Miss Stone, pouting. “I might have knowed it was ever so much further nor it looked.”
“Well, I ain't sayin' I don't want to go, if yu' was desirous of campin' out to-night.”
“Mr. McLean! Indeed, and I'd do no such thing!” and Sabina giggled.
A sage-hen rose under their horses' feet, and hurtled away heavily over the next rise of ground, taking a final wide sail out of sight.