"Oh, that was a job!" she cried.
The rider looked up with eyes that seemed keener, less staring than she remembered. "You came? ... I was afraid you wouldn't," he said.
"Sure I came.... You're better—not badly hurt?" she said, gravely, "I—I'm so glad."
"I've got a crimp in my back, that's all."
Lucy was quick to see that after the first glance at her he was all eyes for Sage King. She laughed. How like a rider! She watched him, knowing that presently he would realize what a horse she was riding. She slipped off and threw the bridle, and then, swiftly untying the second pack, she laid it down.
The rider, with slow, painful steps and bent back, approached Sage King and put a lean, strong, brown hand on him, and touched him as if he wished to feel if he were real. Then he whistled softly. When he turned to Lucy his eyes shone with a beautiful light.
"It's Sage King, Bostil's favorite," said Lucy.
"Sage King! ... He looks it.... But never a wild horse?"
"No."
"A fine horse," replied the rider. "Of course he can run?" This last held a note of a rider's jealousy.