"I love you, Bobby! Will you marry me?" And her reply. "I--I don't know, Ellis." For a few days after that she had avoided him and secretly had been a little afraid of him. But she had always gone back because there was something about him that drew her back. Now, as she studied his profile, she knew that her answer was the only one she could have given. She hadn't known and she still didn't know. Ellis turned suddenly and Barbara glanced quickly away. "Race you!" he said. "Oh, Ellis--" "Come on!" He touched his knees to his horse and Barbara accepted the challenge. Side by side they thundered down the Trail, and Barbara let the reins slacken while, with an almost fierce will, she urged her horse on. She wanted to win. But she could not win. Her mount was good, but Ellis's was better. He drew ahead, widened the gap between them, and as soon as he was ten yards in the lead he stopped and turned to grin. "I win!" "You should, with that horse." Ellis said, and Barbara had an easy feeling that her father would have said it in almost the same way, "He's as good as there is. It's the sort of horse a man should have. Want to ride him?" "I'd love to!" They changed mounts, Ellis holding hers even while he shortened the stirrups for her. Barbara felt the huge horse beneath her and knew a sudden wild thrill. She had heard of the delights of horsemanship, but until now she had never really tasted them. The horse stood still but, standing, he communicated his surging, latent power to his rider. Barbara had a giddy feeling that, if she let him run and did not restrain him, he could run clear to the end of the world. The horse turned its head to look at her with gentle eyes, but he responded at once when she wanted him to. His gait was so soft and easy that Barbara had a strange sense of floating, and she had not ridden a hundred yards before she knew that this horse was hers completely, and that he would do whatever she wanted him to do. She turned a teasing face to Ellis. "Let's race now!" They were off again, Barbara little more than a feather's weight in the saddle while the horse seemed to develop an eagle's wings. It was purest joy, unmarred delight, but when Barbara thought she had left Ellis far in the rear and looked around, he was almost at her heels. She had the better horse, but he was the better rider. Barbara reined her horse to a walk. "I win!" "You'll win anything with King. How do you like him?" "He's wonderful!" "He certainly is." Again they rode side by side, all softness gone and easy intimacy reigning. Ellis passed her a slip of paper. "Your dance card." She unfolded the paper and read, "First dance, Ellis. Second dance, Ellis. Third dance, Ellis. Fourth dance--" There were twenty dances, with Ellis as her partner for every one. She looked at him in mock indignation. "I'm supposed to fill my dance card!" He grinned. "No harm in hinting, is there?" "You're impossible!" "I've always been."