At last he was satisfied, and a little ashamed, too, of his appetite, but she told him it was a pleasure to cook for him, and sent him off to the barn, where presently she spied him propped up in the loft window, a map spread on his knees, and his field glass tucked under one arm. And now she had leisure to think again, and she leaned back in her chair by the window, bared arms folded, ankles crossed, frowning in meditation. She must go; the back trail was clear now. But she needed her own clothing and a horse. Where could she find a horse? Hour after hour she sat there. He had cantered off into the woods long since; and all through the long afternoon she sat there scheming, pondering, a veiled sparkle playing under her half-closed lids. She saw him returning in the last lingering sun rays, leading his saddled horse down to the brook, and stand there, one arm flung across the crupper, while the horse drank and shook his thoroughbred head and lipped the tender foliage that overhung the water. There was the horse she required! She must have him. A few minutes later, bridle over one arm, the young officer came sauntering up to the doorstep. He was pale, but he smiled when he saw her, and his weather-beaten hat swept the grass in salute as she came to the door and looked down at him, hands clasped behind her slender back. "You look dreadfully tired," she said gently. "Don't you ever sleep?" He had been forty-eight hours in the saddle, but he only laughed a gay denial of fatigue. She descended the steps, walked over to the horse, and patted neck and shoulder, scanning limb and chest and flank. The horse would do! "Will you hitch your horse and come in?" she asked sweetly. "Thank you, ma'am." He passed the bridle through the hitching ring at the door, and, hat in hand, followed her into the cabin. His boots dragged a little, but he straightened up, and when she had seated herself, he sank into a chair, closing his sunken eyes for a moment, only to open them smiling, and lean forward on the rough table, folding his arms under him. "You have been very good to us, Miss Cynthia," he said. "My men want me to say so." "Your men are welcome," she answered, resting her cheek on her hand. There was a long silence, broken by her: "You are dying for sleep. Why do you deny it? You may lie down on my bed if you wish." He protested, thanking her, but said he would be glad to sleep in the hay if she permitted; and he rose, steadying himself by the back of his chair. "I always sleep bridle in hand," he said. "A barn floor is luxury for my horse and me." That would not do. The horse must remain. She _must_ have that horse! "I will watch your horse," she said. "Please lie down there. I really wish it." "Why, ma'am, I should never venture----" She looked at him; her heart laughed with content. Here was an easy way for stern necessity.