Once the horses had started he gave his its head, and set it at a hard gallop. He turned in the saddle with a challenge to his companion.
"Let's have a run for it," he cried.
The girl laughed back at him.
"Where you go I'll follow," she cried.
Her words were well calculated. The light of vainglory was in the man's eyes, and he hammered his heels into his horse's flanks till it was racing headlong. But Hazel's mare was at his shoulder, striding along with perfect confidence and controlled under hands equally perfect.
"We'll go along this valley and I'll show you our next year's crop of beeves," cried Hazel, later. "They're away yonder, beyond that southern hill, guess we'll find half of them around there. You said ranching was played out, I think."
"Right ho," cried the man, with a sneering laugh. "Guess you'll need to convince me. Say, this is some hoss."
"Useful," admitted Hazel, watching with distressed eyes the man's lumbering seat in the saddle.
They rode on for some moments in silence. Then Hazel eased her hand upon the Lady Jane, and drew up on the youngster like a shot from a gun.
"We'll have to get across this stream," she declared, indicating the six-foot stream along which they were riding. "There's a cattle bridge lower down which you'd better take. There it is, away on. Guess you can see it from here."