“Not while you drive the colts,” he answered, with a keen glance at her, in which she might have read several things if she had taken the trouble.
“Have you a side-saddle?” she demanded of the freight agent.
“Well—if you’ll wait five minutes—I ’low I can get one.”
As the man disappeared, Miss Farnsworth jumped down from the wagon once more. She produced a letter, and, from the letter a key. With this she opened one of the trunks, which yet stood upon the platform, lifted a tray, dived among sundry garments, and drew out with an air of triumph something made of dark green cloth and folded carefully. With this she walked away into the empty, country freight house.
When, after two minutes’ absence, she emerged again, she was holding up the skirt of a riding habit and carrying a bundle of something which she took to the trunk and hastily stowed away. She said nothing whatever to Jarvis, but stood awaiting the return of the freight agent with an averted cheek.
When the mare reappeared upon the scene she wore an old side-saddle of ancient pattern, and was clumsily bridled with headgear too large for her. Jarvis gave her one glance, and spoke with decision.
“If you will hold these horses a minute, I’ll look that affair over,” he said.
The other man grinned. “All the same to me,” he returned, amicably. “Like enough you’re more used to this sort of business than I be.”
Jarvis went at the big bridle, rearranging straps, getting out his knife and cutting an extra hole or two, tightening it and bringing it more nearly to fit the sleek, small head of the mare. Miss Farnsworth looked on silently. If she appreciated this care for her safety, she did not make it apparent. Only, as Jarvis finished a very careful examination and testing of the side-saddle and stood erect with a smile at her, she said: “Thank you”—quite as if she had no mind to say it. With which he was obliged to be content.
He silently put her upon the mare, held the animal quiet while he looked for the space of one slow breath gravely up into the girl’s face, meeting only lowered lashes and a scornful mouth, and let go the bits. An instant later brown Betty and her rider were twenty rods down the road.