"Then why didn't you save the pony first?" she demanded hotly. "How could I," he returned, fixing her with an amused glance, "with you looking so appealingly at me?" She turned abruptly and left him, walking to a flat rock and seating herself upon it, wringing the water from her skirts, trying to get her hair out of her eyes, feeling very miserable, and wishing devoutly that Dakota might drown himself--after he had succeeded in pulling the pony from the quicksand. But Dakota did not drown himself. Nor did he pull the pony out of the quicksand. She watched him as he rode to the water's edge and looked at the animal. Her heart sank when he turned and looked gravely at her. "I reckon your pony's done for, ma'am," he said. "There isn't anything of him above the sand but his head and a little of his neck. He's too far gone, ma'am. In half an hour he'll----" Sheila stood up, wet and excited. "Can't you do something?" she pleaded. "Couldn't you pull him out with your lariat--like you did me?" There was a grim humor in his smile. "What do you reckon would have happened to you if I had tried to pull you out by the neck?" he asked. "But can't you do _something_?" she pleaded, her icy attitude toward him melting under the warmth of her affection and sympathy for the unfortunate pony. "Please do something!" she begged. His face changed expression and he tapped one of his holsters significantly. "There's only this left, I reckon. Pulling him out by the neck would break it, sure. And it's never a nice thing to see--or hear--a horse or a cow sinking in quicksand. I've seen it once or twice and----" Sheila shuddered and covered her face with her hands, for his words had set her imagination to working. "Oh!" she said and became silent. Dakota stood for a moment, watching her, his face grim with sympathy. "It's too bad," he said finally. "I don't like to shoot him, any more than you want to see it done. I reckon, though, that the pony would thank me for doing it if he could have anything to say about it." He walked over close to her, speaking in a low voice. "You can't stay here, of course. You'll have to take my horse, and you'll have to go right now, if you don't want to be around when the pony----" "Please don't," she said, interrupting him. He relapsed into silence, and stood gravely watching her as she resumed her toilet. She disliked to accept his offer of the pony, but there seemed to be no other way. She certainly could not walk to the Double R ranchhouse, even to satisfy a desire to show him that she would not allow him to place her under any obligation to him. "I've got to tell you one thing," he said presently, standing erect and looking earnestly at her. "If Duncan is responsible for your safety in this country he isn't showing very good judgment in letting you run around alone. There are dangers that you know nothing about, and you don't know a thing about the country. Someone ought to take care of you."