As she stopped at the corral he walked toward her, studying her face. There was no trace of confusion or embarrassment and for all he could discern she might have had her mind on horses only since early forenoon. That puzzled him because, though he was far from certain, he had felt that the scene which he had interrupted had caused her distress. Still, he reminded himself, this was not the type of woman he knew. She was completely strange to him; good margin, that, for coming to mistaken conclusions. "These, ma'am, are the gentle horses," he explained. "I cut 'em out for you. They're some of the best you've got." "They're rough, of course," she remarked after eyeing the animals a moment and he looked at her sharply because her manner was of one who is familiar with horses, "but nothing here looks particularly good. Are these all you brought in?" "I cut the rest into the little corral. There's some good ones there, but they ain't gentle." They walked toward the other enclosure and at their approach the colts gave evidence of alarm. "Now that brown horse's been ridden some--" "But what about the sorrel?" she broke in as a shapely head with a white star between the eyes and a flowing forelock tossed back over delicate ears rose above the mass of backs. "Him, ma'am? He's probably the best colt you own; got the makin's of a fine horse, but he's a bad actor." Just then the crowding of the horses broke into a milling and the sorrel came into full view. A beautiful beast with white stockings behind, deep chest, high withers, short, straight back. "He's a beauty!" she declared. "He has bone and leg. He's gaunt now; not enough belly, but I suppose that's because he's been on the range. I like that square hipped sort when you can get its strength without sacrificing looks." "You're acquainted with horses somewhat, I take it." "I've ridden some; hunted a little. Can you bring him out?" Beck entered the corral and roped the horse. For an instant he resisted, head flung back and feet securely planted; then he came out of the bunch on a trot. "He knows what a rope is. It don't take an intelligent creature, man or beast, long to learn." The horse stood watching him suspiciously, ready to run if given the opportunity. "Where shall we try him?" Jane asked. "In the big corral," he replied and led the sorrel through the gate. The colt, closely snubbed, stood trembling while the blanket was put on; then flinched and breathed loudly as the weight of the saddle was gently placed on his back. He stepped about and kicked as the cinch was drawn tight and resisted a long time the efforts of the man to slip a bit between his teeth. Jane stood by watching, her attention divided between admiration of the man and the horse. The former was assured, gentle, positive in every move; the latter alarmed, rebellious but recognized the fact that he was under control. "Now, if you'll shorten the stirrups I'll try him," she said.