He seemed in imminent peril now; writhing, twisting, bending his small shape convulsively, and finding vent at last in explosive shrieks of laughter. Forrest laughed, too, from sheer sympathy, and turning his horse, rode over to the trough. So the Judge had presented Alice with some cattle,—he smiled again at the quaintness of the gift,—and she was boarding out at Thornton’s new ranch. Strange she had not mentioned that, in some of those letters her sister had given him to read; but she had had a great deal to say about the clearing and Samantha. Martha fixed her stool and resumed her milking, while Lem, having recovered poise, followed the young man slowly. He raised the flute to his lips and piped softly, then held the instrument off and eyed it with growing dissatisfaction. Forrest watched the eager horse plunge his muzzle in the cool basin, and after preliminary splashing and stamping, settle to a still, long draught. Then his glance moved to the boy. "What’s that you have, Lem? A whistle?" "Yes, but I can’t make her work." "Let me try it." Forrest took the flute and the knife and made several careful cuts in the green wood. "This is a fine knife," he said. "You kin jes’ bet your life on that; ther schoolmarm give it to me." "Yes?" said Forrest. "How is she, Lem? She must feel the long trail sometimes; in hot weather or when it rains." "Oh, I dunno. She ’lows it don’t ’mount ter much, long as she has Colonel, an’ all summer, off an’ on, she’s be’n havin’ pleasant comp’ny. I mean Mr. Stratton. He wa’n’t huntin’ any ter speak of." A quick flush flamed in Forrest’s face. He gathered the bridle and raised the flute to his lips. The strain was soft, no longer discordant, and Ketchem stood moving a sensitive ear. "So, Stratton rode with her. He has a fine horse." Lem took the instrument and examined the improvements. "You kin jes’ bet on that. Ther ain’t never be’n no sech stepper in this here deestrict, leavin’ out Colonel. But ther ches’nut’s mighty oncertain. I’d hate ter resk my money on him; ef it kem to it, I’d hate ter resk myself." He paused to try a measure. "She blows pretty good," he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Yes, we ’lowed Mill Thornton was powerful sweet on Cousin Samanthy, but land, he couldn’t hold er candle ter Mr. Stratton. He was over to school ’bout every day, when he was here. Ef it rained he kem in, but mos’ gen’ly he waited outside, er walkin’ his horse up an’ down tell school let out. You’d orter o’ seen him." And with a sidelong glance at Forrest, he raised the flute again and piped a surer strain. Forrest was silent. Lem repeated the blast with his eyes on the startled young horse. He moved forward, suddenly, with a last shrill note, bringing the whistle close to Ketchem’s ear. And he stood grinning his satisfaction, while the animal lunged, reared, and was brought down, trembling, by his rider’s firm hand.