He did not hear what she had said, did not venture a greeting. He merely stood and stared at her, utterly without poise. In a crimson flash he realized that this was Gail Thorpe, that she was pretty, and that his bootless foot was covered by a sock that had given way before the stress of walking in high heels, allowing his great toe, with two of its lesser conspirators, to protrude. To his confusion, those toes seemed to be swelling and for the life of him he could make them do nothing but stand stiffly in the air almost at right angles with the foot. His breeding cried out for a retreat, for a leap into shelter; but his wits had lost all grace. He lifted the half-naked foot and carefully brushed the dirt from the sock. Then, leaning a shoulder against the corner of the cabin, he drew the boot on. Stamping it to the ground to settle his foot into place, he said, "Good morning," weakly and devoid of heartiness. Bob Thorpe had not noticed this confusion, for his eyes were on the corral. But Gail, a peculiar twinkle in her eyes, had seen it all--and with quick intuition knew that it was something more than the embarrassment of a cow-puncher--and struggled to suppress her smiles. "Good afternoon," Thorpe corrected. "Jed here?" "No; he's riding," VB answered. The cattleman moved a pace to the left and tilted his head to see better the Captain, who stormed around and around the corral, raising a great dust. "We came over to look at a horse I heard was here--this one, I guess. Isn't he the wild stallion?" "Used to be wild." "He looks it yet. Watch him plunge!" Thorpe cried. "He's never seen an automobile before," VB explained, as the three moved nearer the corral. The horse was frightened. He quivered when he stood in one place, and the quivering always grew more violent until it ended in a plunge. He rose to his hind legs, head always toward the car, and pawed the air; then settled back and ran to the far side of the inclosure, with eyes for nothing but that machine. They halted by the bars, Thorpe and his daughter standing close together, Young VB nearer the gate. The boy said something to the horse and laughed softly. "Why, look, daddy," the girl cried, "he's beginning to calm down!" The Captain stopped his antics and, still trembling, moved gingerly to the bars. Twice he threw up his head, looked at the machine, and breathed loudly, and once a quick tremor ran through his fine limbs, but the terror was no longer on him. Bob Thorpe turned a slow gaze on VB. The girl stood with lips parted. A flush came under her fine skin and she clasped her hands at her breast. "Oh, daddy, what a horse!" she breathed. And Bob Thorpe echoed: "Lord, what a horse! Anybody tried to ride him?" he asked a moment later. "He gets work every day," VB answered. "_Work?_ Don't tell me you work that animal!" The young chap nodded. "Yes; he works right along."