“Come, Cardinal!” called Margaret gaily. But she was watching John from the corners of her eyes and a tight rein countermanded her own order; Cardinal stood still. John drew his horse toward her and made a pretense of examining Cardinal’s girth. Then he said in tones that only Margaret could hear: “Get out of that saddle at once. I won’t have you killed, even if you want it. If you’re not on the ground before I count ten _I’ll――do――it――again_!” He seized her nearest hand. “One!” She stared down at him haughtily, the colour flooding her face and her eyes darkening. “Two! “Three! “Four!” “Let go of my hand, please,” she said angrily but in low tones. “Five! “Six!” “If you dare――――!” But her voice trembled. “_Seven!_” “What the deuce are you two up to?” asked Phillip. “_Eight!_” “I――I think I’ll let Mr. North ride Cardinal,” said Margaret unsteadily. “Will you help me off, Phil?” “Why, John will do it,” replied Phillip wonderingly. Margaret bit her lips and stared fixedly at Cardinal’s drooping ears. “_Nine!_” said John in a polite, conversational tone. His grasp on her hand tightened. She cast a frightened glance at Phillip, who had mounted and was wheeling Winchester toward home. Her eyes filled as she dropped the reins and took her knee from the horn. John held up his hands and she slipped to the ground. “I hate you!” she sobbed. “I love you!” he whispered. CHAPTER XVII The overseer came to supper that night, looking very uncomfortable in his “party clothes,” and added fifty per cent. to the gaiety of the occasion. He had a wealth of good stories which, while familiar to the others, were new to John, and told them deliciously, with many a “Gingeration!” and “By doggie, sir!” John was sensible of a quite unaccustomed feeling of exhilaration, and his high spirits plainly surprised Phillip. Mrs. Ryerson coquetted ceremoniously and impartially with both guests, while Margaret’s animation verged almost on frivolity. “It seems to do you good to be run away with,” Phillip told her. “It does,” she smiled. “I like it!” “If I was some younger, Miss Margey,” cried Markham with a courtly bow, “I’d take yo’ at yo’ word! By doggie, yes, ma’am!” “Oh, dear! I so wish you were!” Margaret sighed. Phillip’s eyebrows went up. This was a new Margey. But if she was all graciousness to Markham she was but calm, unadorned politeness to John North. He was never for a moment allowed to forget that she hated him. When he spoke to her the smiles disappeared and she replied in the fewest number of words consistent with courtesy. Her manner said: “You are my hated foe; but you are also my guest!” And John throve on her displeasure and grew merrier with every proof of it.