"Not--not very," said Ellinor. The mere fact was that Miss Ellinor had set out ostensibly for a sketching expedition with another girl, had turned aside to explore, and exploring had fetched a circuit that had left her much closer to her starting-place than to her goal. He misinterpreted the slight hesitation. "Well, ma'am, thank you again; but I mustn't be keeping you longer. I really ought to see you safe back to your camp; but--you'll understand--under the circumstances--you'll excuse me?" He did not want to implicate Mr. Lake, so he took a limping step forward to justify his rudeness. "And you hardly able to walk? Ridiculous! What I ought to do is to go back to camp and get some one--get Mr. White to help you." Thus, at once accepting his unspoken explanation, and offering her own apology in turn, she threw aside the air of guarded hostility that had marked the last minutes and threw herself anew into this joyous adventure. "When--or if--your friends find you, won't it hurt you to ride?" she asked, and smiled deliberate encouragement. "I can be as modest as anybody when there's anything to be modest about; but in this case I guess I'll now declare that I can ride anything that a saddle will stay on.... I reckon," he added reflectively, "the boys'll have right smart to say about me being throwed." "But you weren't thrown! You rode magnificently!" Her eyes flashed admiration. "Yes'm. That's what I hoped you'd say," said the admired one complacently. "Go on, ma'am. Say it again." "It was splendid! The saddle turned--that's all!" He slowly surveyed the scene of his late exploit. "Ye--es, that was some riding--for a while," he admitted. "But you see, that saddle now, scarred up that way--why, they'll think the eohippus wasted me and then dragged the saddle off under a tree. Leastways, they'll say they think so, frequent. Best not to let on and to make no excuses. It'll be easier that way. We're great on guying here. That's most all the fun we have. We sure got this joshing game down fine. Just wondering what all the boys'd say--that was why I didn't get out of the water at first, before--before I thought I was asleep, you know." "So you'll actually tell a lie to keep from being thought a liar? I'm disappointed in you." "Why, ma'am, I won't say anything. They'll do the talking." "It'll be deceitful, just the same," she began, and checked herself suddenly. A small twinge struck her at the thought of poor Maud, really sketching on Thumb Butte, and now disconsolately wondering what had become of lunch and fellow-artist; but she quelled this pang with a sage thought of the greatest good to the greatest number, and clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, what a silly I am, to be sure! I've got a lunch basket up there, but I forgot all about it in the excitement. I'm sure there's plenty for two. Shall I bring it down to you or can you climb up if I help you? There's water in the canteen--and it's beautiful up there."