Lanty (with a flattering show of interest).  “No!  Did ye, now?  I was jest wonderin"’—­

The Swain (eagerly).  “I did—­quite late, too!  Why, that’s nothin’, Miss Atalanty, to what I’d do for you.”

Lanty (musing, with far off-eyes).  “Then that’s why she was so awful skeerd and frightened!  Just jumpin’ outer her skin with horror.  I reckoned it was a b’ar or panther or a spook!  You ought to have waited till she got accustomed to your looks.”

Nevertheless, despite this elegant raillery, Lanty was enough concerned in the safety of her horse to visit it the next day with a view of bringing it nearer home.  She had just stepped into the alder fringe of a dry “run” when she came suddenly upon the figure of a horseman in the “run,” who had been hidden by the alders from the plain beyond and who seemed to be engaged in examining the hoof marks in the dust of the old ford.  Something about his figure struck her recollection, and as he looked up quickly she saw it was the owner of the dagger.  But he appeared to be lighter of hair and complexion, and was dressed differently, and more like a vaquero.  Yet there was the same flash of his teeth as he recognized her, and she knew it was the same man.

Alas for her preparation!  Without the knife she could not make that haughty return of it which she had contemplated.  And more than that, she was conscious she was blushing!  Nevertheless she managed to level her pretty brown eyebrows at him, and said sharply that if he followed her to her home she would return his property at once.

“But I’m in no hurry for it,” he said with a laugh,—­the same light laugh and pleasant voice she remembered,—­“and I’d rather not come to the house just now.  The knife is in good hands, I know, and I’ll call for it when I want it!  And until then—­if it’s all the same to you—­keep it to yourself,—­keep it dark, as dark as the night I lost it!”

“I don’t go about blabbing my affairs,” said Lanty indignantly, “and if it hadn’t been dark that night you’d have had your ears boxed—­you know why!”

The stranger laughed again, waved his hand to Lanty, and galloped away.

Lanty was a little disappointed.  The daylight had taken away some of her illusions.  He was certainly very good-looking, but not quite as picturesque, mysterious, and thrilling as in the dark!  And it was very queer—­he certainly did look darker that night!  Who was he?  And why was he lingering near her?  He was different from her neighbors—­her admirers.  He might be one of those locaters, from the big towns, who prospect the lands, with a view of settling government warrants on them,—­they were always so secret until they had found what they wanted.  She did not dare to seek information of her friends, for the same reason that she had concealed his existence from her mother,—­it would provoke awkward questions; and it was evident that he was trusting to her secrecy, too.  The thought thrilled her with a new pride, and was some compensation for the loss of her more intangible romance.  It would be mighty fine, when he did call openly for his beautiful knife and declared himself, to have them all know that she knew about it all along.