“What are you studying over, Mr. McLean?” inquired the lady, after a hundred yards.

“Did you ever taste steamed Duxbury clams?” asked Lin, absently.

“No, indeed.  What’s them?”

“Oh, just clams.  Yu’ have drawn butter, too.”  Mr. McLean fell silent again.

“I guess I’ll be late for settin’ the colonel’s table.  Good-bye,” said Sabina, quickly, and swished her whip across the pony, who scampered away with her along the straight road across the plain to the post.

Lin caught up with her at once and made his peace.

“Only,” protested Sabina, “I ain’t used to gentlemen taking me out and—­ well, same as if I was a collie-dog.  Maybe it’s Wind River politeness.”

But she went riding with him up Trout Creek in the cool of the afternoon.  Out of the Indian tepees, scattered wide among the flat levels of sage-brush, smoke rose thin and gentle, and vanished.  They splashed across the many little running channels which lead water through that thirsty soil, and though the range of mountains came no nearer, behind them the post, with its white, flat buildings and green trees, dwindled to a toy village.

“My! but it’s far to everywheres here,” exclaimed Sabina, “and it’s little you’re sayin’ for yourself to-day, Mr. McLean.  I’ll have to do the talking.  What’s that thing now, where the rocks are?”

“That’s Little Wind River Canyon,” said the young man.  “Feel like goin’ there, Miss Stone?”

“Why, yes.  It looks real nice and shady like, don’t it?  Let’s.”

So Miss Stone turned her pony in that direction.

“When do your folks eat supper?” inquired Lin.

“Half-past six.  Oh, we’ve lots of time!  Come on.”

“How many miles per hour do you figure that cayuse of yourn can travel?” Lin asked.

“What are you a-talking about, anyway?  You’re that strange to-day,” said the lady.

“Only if we try to make that canyon, I guess you’ll be late settin’ the colonel’s table,” Lin remarked, his hazel eyes smiling upon her.  “That is, if your horse ain’t good for twenty miles an hour.  Mine ain’t, I know.  But I’ll do my best to stay with yu’.”

“You’re the teasingest man—­” said Miss Stone, pouting.  “I might have knowed it was ever so much further nor it looked.”

“Well, I ain’t sayin’ I don’t want to go, if yu’ was desirous of campin’ out to-night.”

“Mr. McLean!  Indeed, and I’d do no such thing!” and Sabina giggled.

A sage-hen rose under their horses’ feet, and hurtled away heavily over the next rise of ground, taking a final wide sail out of sight.

“Something like them partridges used to,” said Lin, musingly.

“Partridges?” inquired Sabina.

“Used to be in the woods between Lynn and Salem.  Maybe the woods are gone by this time.  Yes, they must be gone, I guess.”

Presently they dismounted and sought the stream bank.