“And so, you see,” she continued, “I couldn’t very well help being interested in the welfare of the stranger who had come among us.  Besides, our traditional western hospitality demanded it; don’t you think?”

“Oh, certainly, certainly.  You could really do nothing less than inquire about me,” he agreed politely.

“And so, you see, Stella quite restored my soul health; or at least afforded me temporary relief.”

He met the quizzing, teasing, laughing look in her eyes blankly.  “You are making fun of me again,” he said humbly.  “I know I ought to laugh at myself, but—­”

“Why, don’t you understand?” she cried.  “Dr. Stella administered a generous dose of talk about the only new thing that has happened in this neighborhood for months and months and months.”

“Meaning me?” he asked.

“Well, are you not?” she retorted.

“I guess I am,” he smiled.  “Well, and then what?”

“Why, then I came away, feeling much better, of course.”

“Yes?”

“I was feeling so much better I decided I would go home a roundabout way; perhaps to the top of Black Hill; perhaps up Horse Wash, where I might meet father, who would be on his way home from Fair Oaks where he went this morning.”

“I see.”

“Well, so I met Snip, who was on his way to the Cross-Triangle.  I knew, of course, that old Snip would be your horse.”  She smiled, as though to rob her words of any implied criticism of his horsemanship.

“Exactly,” he agreed understandingly.

“And I was afraid that something might have happened; though I couldn’t see how that could be, either, with Snip.  And so I caught him—­”

He interrupted eagerly.  “How?”

“Why, with my riata,” she returned, in a matter-of-fact tone, wondering at his question.

“You caught my horse with your riata?” he repeated slowly.

“And pray how should I have caught him?” she asked.

“But—­but, didn’t he run?”

She laughed.  “Of course he ran.  They all do that once they get away from you.  But Snip never could outrun my Midnight,” she retorted.

He shook his head slowly, looking at her with frank admiration, as though, for the first time, he understood what a rare and wonderful creature she was.

“And you can ride and rope like that?” he said doubtfully.

She flushed hotly, and there was a spark of fire in the brown eyes.  “I suppose you are thinking that I am coarse and mannish and all that,” she said with spirit.  “By your standards, Mr. Patches, I should have ridden back to the house, screaming, ladylike, for help.”

“No, no,” he protested.  “That’s not fair.  I was thinking how wonderful you are.  Why, I would give—­what wouldn’t I give to be able to do a thing like that!”

There was no mistaking his earnestness, and Kitty was all sunshine again, pardoning him with a smile.