Luckily the horse did not take alarm and run, as a less reliable animal might have done, dragging the girl under his heels. He stopped in his tracks, and stood obediently, even turning his head as if to see what damage had been done. It was enough. Marion was uninjured, but badly frightened; and her humiliation was complete. She lay on her back, struggling vainly to extricate her foot from the stirrup. Her coat skirts had fallen back, and--Thank Heaven for the riding breeches, and not what she had worn under divided skirts! "Lie still!" yelled Haig, remembering what he had seen happen to men in such circumstances. In three leaps he was at her side. With a swift movement (and none too gentle), he wrenched her foot loose from the stirrup, and helped her to sit up, dazed and trembling and very white. "Your ankle--is it hurt?" he asked sharply. "I don't know," she said. And then the expected "inspiration of the moment" came. "A little," she added. And so it was done. Her foot had indeed been twisted slightly; she had truly, _truly_ felt a twinge of pain. At another time she would have thought no more about it, but now--The color rushed back into her cheeks; she fetched a smile that was half a grimace; and the game was on again. Haig reached a hand to her. She took it, and let him draw her to her feet. "Try the ankle--just a step!" he commanded. She rested her weight on her left foot. "Oh!" she cried out, and looked helplessly at Haig. A shadow, unmistakably of annoyance, passed over his face. "You're not going to faint, are you?" he asked, looking keenly at her. Her color always came and went easily, and now, a little frightened by her bold deception, she was pale again. "No--I think not," she said. ("At any rate not here," she might have added.) "Can you ride to the corrals?" was his next question. The look of annoyance was now fixed on his face, but it did not discourage her. "Yes, if--" She looked doubtfully at Tuesday. Thereupon, without a word, Haig led the horse close to her, but placed so that she was at Tuesday's right side instead of the left. Then, while she supported herself with one hand on his shoulder, he raised her right foot, and thrust it into the stirrup; and, with a hand under each of her arms, lifted her until she was able to throw the left foot over, and her body into the saddle. Once more Marion bit her lip. His action was as devoid of personal interest as Pete's had been when he carried her out of the pool; and she had not come to Philip Haig to be treated like a sack of oats!