“I daren’t?  Then, catch me!”

She wheeled her pony and sped toward the timber.  Corliss, running heavily in his high-heeled boots, caught up his own horse and leaped to the saddle as Chinook broke into a run.  The young rancher knew that the girl would do her best to beat him to the canon level.  He feared for her safety on the ragged trail below them.

Chinook swung down the trail taking the turns without slackening his speed and Corliss, leaning in on the curves, dodged the sweeping branches.

Arrived at the far edge of the timber, he could see the girl ahead of him, urging Challenge down the rain-gutted trail at a lope.  As she pulled up at an abrupt turn, she waved to him.  He accepted the challenge and, despite his better judgment, set spurs to Chinook.

Round the next turn he reined up and leaped from his horse.  Below him he saw Challenge, riderless, and galloping along the edge of the hillside.  On the trail lay Eleanor Loring, her black hair vivid against the gray of the shale.  He plunged toward her and stooping caught her up in his arms.  “Nell!  Nell!” he cried, smoothing back her hair from her forehead.  “God, Nell!  I—­I didn’t mean it.”

Her eyelids quivered.  Then she gasped.  He could feel her trembling.  Presently her eyes opened and a faint smile touched her white lips.  “I’m all right.  Challenge fell—­and I jumped clear.  Struck my head.  Don’t look at me like that!  I’m not going to die.”

“I’m—­I’m mighty glad, Nell!” he said, helping her to a seat on the rock against which she had fallen.

Her hands were busy with her hair.  He found her hat and handed it to her.  “If my head wasn’t just splitting, I’d like to laugh.  You are the funniest man alive!  I couldn’t speak, but I heard you call to me and tell me you didn’t mean it!  Then you say you are mighty glad I’m alive.  Doesn’t that sound funny enough to bring a person to life again?”

“No, it’s not funny.  It was a close call.”

She glanced at his grave, white face.  “Guess you were scared, John.  I didn’t know you could be scared at anything.  Jack Corliss as white as a sheet and trembling like a—­a girl!”

“On account of a girl,” said Corliss, smiling a little.

“Now, that sounds better.  What were you doing up on the mesa this afternoon?”

“I took some lump-sugar up for my old pony, Apache.  He likes it.”

“Well, I’ll never forget it!” she exclaimed.  “How the boys would laugh if they heard you’d been feeding sugar to an old broken-down cow-pony!  You!  Why, I feel better already.”

“I’m right glad you do, Nell.  But you needn’t say anything about the sugar.  I kind of like the old hoss.  Will you promise?”

“I don’t know.  Oh, my head!” She went white and leaned against him.  He put his arm around her, and her head lay back against his shoulder.  “I’ll be all right—­in a minute,” she murmured.