“Dell wants t' go along. Will yuh saddle up Concho for 'er? There's no hurry, anyhow, you've got plenty uh time. Dell's afraid one uh the kids might fall downstairs ag'in, and she'd miss the case.” “I'm not, either,” said the Little Doctor, coming to stand by her brother; “it's too nice a day to stay inside, and my muscles ache for a gallop over the hills.” Chip did not look up at her; he did not dare. He felt that, if he met her eyes--with the laugh in them--he should do one of two undesirable things: he should either smile back at her, weakly overlooking the hypocrisy of her friendliness, or sneer in answer to her smile, which would be very rude and ungentlemanly. “If you had mentioned wanting a ride I should have been glad to accompany you,” remarked Dunk, reproachfully, when Chip had ridden, somewhat sullenly, back to the stable. “I didn't think of it before--thank you,” said the Little Doctor, lightly, and hurried away to put on her blue riding habit with its cunning little jockey cap which she found the only headgear that would stay upon her head in the teeth of Montana wind, and which made her look-well, kissable. She was standing on the porch drawing on her gauntlets when Chip returned, leading Concho by the bridle. “Let me help you,” begged Dunk, at her elbow, hoping till the last that she would invite him to go with them. The Little Doctor, not averse to hiding the bitter of her medicine under a coating of sugar, smiled sweetly upon him, to the delectation of Dunk and the added bitterness of Chip, who was rapidly nearing that state of mind which is locally described as being “strictly on the fight.” “I expect she thinks I'll amuse her some more!” he thought, savagely, as they galloped away through the quivering sunlight. For the first two miles the road was level, and Chip set the pace--which was, as he intended it should be, too swift for much speech. After that the trail climbed abruptly out of Flying U coulee, and the horses were compelled to walk. Then it was that Chip's native chivalry and self-mastery were put to test. He was hungry for a solitary ride such as had, before now, drawn much of the lonely ache out of his heart and keyed him up to the life which he must live and which chafed his spirit more than even he realized. Instead of such slender comfort, he was forced to ride beside the girl who had hurt him--so close that his knee sometimes brushed her horse--and to listen to her friendly chatter and make answer, at times, with at least some show of civility. She was talking reminiscently of the dance. “J. G. showed splendid judgment in his choice of musicians, didn't he?” Chip looked straight ahead. This was touching a sore place in his memory. A vision of Dick Brown's vapid smile and curled up mustache rose before him. “I'd tell a man,” he said, with faint irony. The Little Doctor gave him a quick, surprised look and went on. “I liked their playing so much. Mr. Brown was especially good upon the guitar.”