“You mean,” she said quickly, “this vixen did hurt you yesterday more than you would admit?”

“Oh, no, but the friction of the reins can make even a scratch uncomfortable after a while, and my glove is getting tight.  A little peroxide, when we reach a pharmacy, will fix it all right.”

But Miss Armitage watched him doubtfully.  She assured him she was not tired and that she loved to drive.  Had she not told him so at the start?  Then, as they left the promontory, her glance followed the road ahead.  The bridge was no longer fine as a spider web; it was a railroad crossing of steel, and the long eaves of the Great Northern depot lifted near, flanked by the business blocks of a town.  “Wenatchee!” she exclaimed; and wavering, asked:  “Isn’t this Wenatchee?”

“Yes, Miss Armitage, I am afraid that it is.  You are back to civilization.  A few minutes more and, if you will give me their address, you will be safe with your friends.”

“I did not say I had any friends in Wenatchee, Mr. Tisdale.  I am going on to Hesperides Vale.  But please leave me at any quiet hotel.  I can’t thank you enough for all your kindness and patience,” she went on hurriedly.  “For making this trip possible.  All I can hope to do is share the expense.”  And she found the inside pocket of her coat and drew out a small silver purse.

Tisdale, driving slowly, divided his attention between his team and the buildings on either side.  “There is a public garage,” he said, “and a rival establishment opposite.  You will have no trouble to finish your trip by automobile, as you planned.  It will be pleasant making the run up the valley this evening, when it is cool.”

Miss Armitage opened her purse.  “The rates must be considerably higher on a rough mountain road than on the Seattle boulevard, and, of course, one couldn’t expect to hire Nip and Tuck at ordinary rates.”

Tisdale drew in, hesitating, before a hotel, then relaxed the reins.  “The building seems modern, but we may find a quiet little inn up some side street with more shade.”

“I presume you will drive on up the valley,” she said, after a moment, “and start back to Kittitas to-morrow.  Or will it be necessary to rest the team a day?”

“I shall drive on to that tract of Weatherbee’s this afternoon; but I expect to take the westbound train to-night, somewhere up the valley.”

“I see,” she said quickly and tried to cover her dismay, “you intend to ship the team back to Kittitas by way of Seattle.  I’m afraid”—­her voice broke a little, the color flushed pinkly to her forehead, her ears, and her glance fell to the purse in her lap—­“but please tell me the charges.”

“Madam,” and the ready humor crinkled the corners of his mouth, “when I ship these horses back to Lighter, he is going to pay the freight.”

She drew a quick breath of relief, but her purse remained open, and she waited, regarding Tisdale with an expectant, disconcerting side-glance of her half-veiled eyes.  “And the day rates for the use of the team?” she asked.