"Yes, Dad."
"Give him miles an' miles—an' then comin' home, on good trails, ride him for all your worth.... Now, Lucy, keep your eye open. Don't let any one get near you on the sage."
"I won't.... Dad, do you still worry about poor Joel Creech?"
"Not Joel. But I'd rather lose all my stock then have Cordts or Dick Sears get within a mile of you."
"A mile!" exclaimed Lucy, lightly, though a fleeting shade crossed her face. "Why, I'd run away from him, if I was on the King, even if he got within ten yards of me."
"A mile is close enough, my daughter," replied Bostil. "Don't ever forget to keep your eye open. Cordts has sworn thet if he can't steal the King he'll get you."
"Oh! he prefers the horse to me."
"Wal, Lucy, I've a sneakin' idea thet Cordts will never leave the uplands unless he gets you an' the King both."
"And, Dad—you consented to let that horse-thief come to our races?" exclaimed Lucy, with heat.
"Why not? He can't do any harm. If he or his men get uppish, the worse for them. Cordts gave his word not to turn a trick till after the races."