He was rapidly adjusting the blanket and saddle on his horse.
"You'll have to ride or we can't make speed," he added. "As a walker you're sure the limited."
She appreciated thoroughly the delicacy with which he meant to continue the fiction of her sex. But he certainly was frank.
"Thank you," she answered amusedly. "I'd do better, perhaps, if I weren't so over-burdened with flattery."
"You'll have to do better, anyhow," he observed, concluding preparations with Suvy. "There you are. Get on. Father Time with hobbles on could beat us getting a move."
He started off, leaving her to mount by herself. She managed the matter somewhat stiffly, suppressing a groan at the effort, and then for an hour she was gently pummeled into limberness as the pony followed Van.
They came at the end of that time to one of the upper reaches of that same river she had forded the previous day. To all appearances the wide shallow bed was a counterpart of the one over which her horse had waded. But the trail turned sharply down the stream, and followed along its bank.
They had halted for the pony to drink. Van also refreshed himself and Beth dismounted to lie flat down and quench her long, trying thirst.
"Right across there, high up in the hills, is the 'Laughing Water' claim," said Van, pointing north-eastward towards the mountains. "Only three miles away, if we could fly, but six as we have to go around."
"And why do we have to go around?" Beth inquired. "Aren't we going to cross the river here?"