So the journey home began. Strangely enough, neither seemed to care particularly what had or might become of Pirate. He disappeared, mentally and physically. One thing dampened the journey for Warburton. His "game leg" ached cruelly, and after the second mile (which was traversed without speech from either of them), he fell into a slight limp. From her seat above and behind him, she saw this limp. "You have hurt yourself?" she asked gently. "Not to-day, Miss,"--briefly. "When he ran away with you?" "No. It's an old trouble." "While you were a soldier?" "Yes." "How?" He turned in surprise. All these questions were rather unusual. Nevertheless he answered her, and truthfully. "I was shot in the leg by a drunken Indian." "While on duty?" "Yes." Unconsciously he was forgetting to add "Miss", which was the patent of his servility. And I do not think that just then she noticed this subtraction from the respect due her. It was eleven o'clock when they arrived at the gates. She dismounted alone. Warburton was visibly done up. "Any orders for this afternoon, Miss?" "I shall want the victoria at three. I have some shopping to do and a call to make. Send William after Pirate. I am very grateful for what you have done." He made no reply, for he saw her father coming down the steps. "Betty," said the colonel, pale and worried, "have you been riding Pirate? Where is he, and what in the world has happened?"--noting the dust on her habit and her tangled hair. She explained: she told the story rather coolly, Warburton thought, but she left out no detail. "You have James to thank for my safety, father. He was very calm and clear-headed." _Calm and clear-headed!_ thought Warburton. The girl then entered the house, humming. Most women would have got out the lavender salts and lain down the rest of the day, considering the routine of a fashionable dinner, which was the chief duty of the evening. "I am grateful to you, James. My daughter is directly in your care when she rides, and I give you full authority. Never permit her to mount any horse but her own. She is all I have; and if anything should happen to her--" "Yes, sir; I understand." The colonel followed his daughter; and Warburton led Dick to the stables, gave his orders to William, and flung himself down on his cot. He was dead tired. And the hour he had dreaded was come! He was to drive her through the shopping district. Well, so be it. If any one exposed him, very good. This groom business was decidedly like work. And there was that confounded dinner-party, and he would have to limp around a table and carry soup plates! And as likely as not he would run into the very last person he expected to see. Which he did. XIV AN ORDEAL OR TWO