"Wal, Miss Lucy, the King sure looks good," said Farlane, as she jumped off and flung him the bridle. "He's just had about right, judgin'.... Say, girl, you're all pale! Oh, say, you wasn't scared of the King, now?" "No," replied Lucy, panting. "Wal, what's up, then?" The rider spoke in an entirely different voice, and into his clear, hazel eyes a little dark gleam shot. "Joel Creech waylaid me out in the sage--and--and tried to catch me." Lucy checked herself. It might not do to tell how Joel had tried to catch her. "He did? An' you on the King!" Farlane laughed, as if relieved. "Wal, he's tried thet before. Miss Lucy. But when you was up on the gray--thet shows Joel's crazy, sure." "He sure is. Farlane, I--I am mad!" "Wal, cool off, Miss Lucy. It ain't nothin' to git set up about. An' don't tell the old man." "Why not?" demanded Lucy. "Wal, because he's in a queer sort of bad mood lately. It wouldn't be safe. He hates them Creeches. So don't tell him." "All right, Farlane, I won't. Don't you tell, either," replied Lucy, soberly. "Sure I'll keep mum. But if Joel doesn't watch out I'll put a crimp in him myself." Lucy hurried away down the lane and entered the house without meeting any one. In her room she changed her clothes and lay down to rest and think. Strangely enough, Lucy might never have encountered Joel Creech out in the sage, for all the thought she gave him. Her mind was busy with the crippled rider. Who was he? Where was he from? What strange passion he had shown over the recovery of that wonderful red horse! Lucy could not forget the feeling of his iron arm when he held her in a kind of frenzied gratitude. A wild upland rider, living only for a wild horse! How like Indians some of these riders! Yet this fellow had seemed different from most of the uncouth riders she had known. He spoke better. He appeared to have had some little schooling. Lucy did not realize that she was interested in him. She thought she was sorry for him and interested in the stallion. She began to compare Wildfire with Sage King, and if she remembered rightly Wildfire, even in his disheveled state, had appeared a worthy rival of the King. What would Bostil say at sight of that flame-colored stallion? Lucy thrilled.