The rider, with slow, painful steps and bent back, approached Sage King and put a lean, strong, brown hand on him, and touched him as if he wished to feel if he were real. Then he whistled softly. When he turned to Lucy his eyes shone with a beautiful light. "It's Sage King, Bostil's favorite," said Lucy. "Sage King! ... He looks it.... But never a wild horse?" "No." "A fine horse," replied the rider. "Of course he can run?" This last held a note of a rider's jealousy. Lucy laughed. "Run! ... The King is Bostil's favorite. He can run away from any horse in the uplands." "I'll bet you Wildfire can beat him," replied the rider, with a dark glance. "Come on!" cried Lucy, daringly. Then the rider and girl looked more earnestly at each other. He smiled in a way that changed his face--brightened out the set hardness. "I reckon I'll have to crawl," he said, ruefully. "But maybe I can ride in a few days--if you'll come back again." His remark brought to Lucy the idea that of course she would hardly see this rider again after to-day. Even if he went to the Ford, which event was unlikely, he would not remain there long. The sensation of blankness puzzled her, and she felt an unfamiliar confusion. "I--I've brought you--some things," she said, pointing to the larger pack. "Grub, you mean?" "No." "That was all I asked you for, miss," he said, somewhat stiffly. "Yes, but--I--I thought--" Lucy became unaccountably embarrassed. Suppose this strange rider would be offended. "Your clothes were--so torn.... And no wonder you were thrown--in those boots! ... So I thought I'd--" "You thought I needed clothes as bad as grub," he said, bitterly. "I reckon that's so." His look, more than his tone, cut Lucy; and involuntarily she touched his arm. "Oh, you won't refuse to take them! Please don't!" At her touch a warmth came into his face. "Take them? I should smile I will." He tried to reach down to lift the pack, but as it was obviously painful for him to bend, Lucy intercepted him. "But you've had no breakfast," she protested. "Why not eat before you open that pack?" "Nope. I'm not hungry.... Maybe I'll eat a little, after I dress up." He started to walk away, then turned. "Miss Bostil, have you been so good to every wanderin' rider you happened to run across?" "Good!" she exclaimed, flushing. She dropped her eyes before his. "Nonsense. ... Anyway, you're the first wandering rider I ever met--like this." "Well, you're good," he replied, with emotion. Then he walked away with slow, stiff steps and disappeared behind the willows in the little hollow. Lucy uncoiled the rope on her saddle and haltered Sage King on the best grass near at hand. Then she opened the pack of supplies, thinking the while that she must not tarry here long. "But on the King I can run back like the wind," she mused.