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"Has he a taste for fiction?" I asked, with a depreciative smirk.

He smiled. "No, but I can put some there if you want it."

I was moving briskly along, making my good steed acquainted with me, testing his education, how promptly for instance, he would respond to rein-touch and to leg-pressure, when I saw, in front, coming toward me, three riders. Two of them were very genteel chaps, though a hand of each was on the lock of his carbine. The third was a woman, veiled, and clad in some dark stuff that in the starlight seemed quite black and contrasted strongly with the paleness of her horse. Her hat, in particular, fastened my attention; if that was not the same soft-brimmed Leghorn I had seen yesterday morning, at least it was its twin sister. I halted, revolver in hand, and said, as they drew rein,--"Good-evening."

When I said I would try she looked distressfully unassured and I added "I'll do whatever risks no life but mine."

"It was you who said it! and anyhow, it was you who had the strength to do it!"

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