“What do you mean?”

“Well, to say you liked being hugged that day was—­was a story, wasn’t it?”

“That was what made me so furious,” she admitted, shyly.  “I was surprised when you grabbed me off Wildfire.  And my heart beat—­beat—­beat so when you hugged me.  And when you kissed me I—­I was petrified.  I knew I liked it then—­and I was furious with myself.”

Slone drew a long, deep breath of utter enchantment.  “You’ll take back Wildfire?”

“Oh, Lin—­don’t—­ask—­me,” she implored.

“Take him back—­an’ me with him.”

“Then I will.  But no one must know that yet.”

They drew apart then.

“An’ now you must go,” said Slone, reluctantly.  “Listen.  I forgot to warn you about Joel Creech.  Don’t ever let him near you.  He’s crazy an’ he means evil.”

“Oh, I know, Lin!  I’ll watch.  But I’m not afraid of him.”

“He’s strong, Lucy.  I saw him lift bags that were hefty for me. . . .  Lucy, do you ride these days?”

“Every day.  If I couldn’t ride I couldn’t live.”

“I’m afraid,” said Slone, nervously.  “There’s Creech an’ Cordts—­both have threatened you.”

“I’m afraid of Cordts,” replied Lucy, with a shiver.  “You should have seen him look at me race-day.  It made me hot with anger, yet weak, too, somehow.  But Dad says I’m never in any danger if I watch out.  And I do.  Who could catch me on Sarch?”

“Any horse can be tripped in the sage.  You told me how Joel tried to rope Sage King.  Did you ever tell your dad that?”

“I forgot.  But then I’m glad I didn’t.  Dad would shoot for that, quicker than if Joel tried to rope him. . . .  Don’t worry, Lin, I always pack a gun.”

“But can you use it?”

Lucy laughed.  “Do you think I can only ride?”

Slone remembered that Holley had said he had taught Lucy how to shoot as well as ride.  “You’ll be watchful—­careful,” he said, earnestly.

“Oh, Lin, you need to be that more than I. . . .  What will you do?”

“I’ll stay up at the little cabin I thought I owned till to-day.”

“Didn’t you buy it?” asked Lucy, quickly.

“I thought I did.  But . . . never mind.  Maybe I won’t get put out just yet.  An’ when will I see you again?”

“Here, every night.  Wait till I come,” she replied.  “Good night, Lin.”

“I’ll—­wait!” he exclaimed, with a catch in his voice.  “Oh, my luck! . . . 
I’ll wait, Lucy, every day—­hopin’ an’ prayin’ that this trouble will lighten. 
An’ I’ll wait at night—­for you!”

He kissed her good-by and watched the slight form glide away, flit to and fro, white in the dark patches, grow indistinct and vanish.  He was left alone in the silent grove.

Slone stole back to the cabin and lay sleepless and tranced, watching the stars, till late that night.

All the next day he did scarcely anything but watch and look after his horses and watch and drag the hours out and dream despite his dread.  But no one visited him.  The cabin was left to him that day.