James threw up his head with a hearty laugh. “If you keep up your ‘clip’ there won’t be a cayuse on HW ranch that could carry you a mile.”
They all joined in the laugh, and then Henry West asked if he might be excused and go fetch the horses.
“Mr. West, why did you bring two horses?” asked Bess, later, as she watched the animals brought up to the porch.
“Why, I thought perhaps that James would like to ride, but I am afraid he better not attempt it just yet.”
“Oh, let me! Now James,” as he raised his hand in remonstrance, “you know it doesn’t tire me in the least.”
“Yes, dearie, but riding a few hours on the smooth pavements of New York is entirely different from a thirty-five mile trip across an Indian reservation.”
A look of disappointment clouded her face, and Henry West hastened to speak: “Mauchacho is perfectly safe, and when she gets tired we can stop and wait for the stage.”
Bess looked at him with grateful eyes and cried impulsively: “You de— oh, thank you, Mr. West,” correcting herself hastily.
Henry West looked at her with a sympathetic glance, and had she looked she might have read with what eloquence his eyes asked her to speak that word—dear.
James saw that any further expostulation would be useless, so he helped West adjust the stirrups.