Scarcely daring to wink she fixed her eyes
upon the ground--but the dust cloud had drifted away and there were no
limp, twisted forms. Even the little square of white was gone. In
bewilderment she heard cries of approval and loud shouts of applause
from the passengers. Once more her ears caught the sound of pounding
hoofs, and circling toward her in a wide curve were the two riders,
erect and firm in their saddles, as a gauntleted hand held high a
fluttering scrap of white.
The horses brought up directly before her, a Stetson was swept from a
thick shock of curly black hair, the gauntleted hand extended the
recalcitrant handkerchief, and she found herself blushing furiously for
no reason at all beneath the direct gaze of a pair of very black eyes
that looked out from a face tanned to the colour of old mahogany.
"Oh, thank you! It was splendid--the horsemanship." She stammered.
"I've seen it in the movies, but I didn't know it was actually done in
real life."
"Yes, mom, it is. It's owin' to the horse yeh've got, an' yer cinch.
Yeh'll see a heap better'n that this afternoon right on this here flat.
An' would yeh be layin' over fer the dance tonight, mom?"
The abrupt question was even more disconcerting than the compelling
directness of his gaze.
For an instant, the girl hesitated as her eyes swept from the
cowpuncher's face to the brilliant scarf loosely knotted about his
throat, the blue flannel shirt, the bright yellow angora chaps against
which the ivory butt of a revolver showed a splotch of white, and the
boots jammed into the broad wooden stirrups, to their high heels from
which protruded a pair of enormously rowelled spurs inlaid with silver.
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