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"
"I'll bet you'd like to see Sarch beat him," said Bostil, jealously.
"Sure I would," replied Lucy, teasingly. "But, Dad, I'm afraid Sarch never
will beat him."
Bostil grunted. "See here. I don't want any weight up on the King. You take
him out for a few days. An' ride him! Savvy thet?"
"Yes, Dad."
"Give him miles an' miles--an' then comin' home, on good trails, ride him for
all your worth. . . . Now, Lucy, keep your eye open. Don't let any one get
near you on the sage."
"I won't. . . . Dad, do you still worry about poor Joel Creech?"
"Not Joel. But I'd rather lose all my stock then have Cordts or Dick Sears get
within a mile of you."
"A mile!" exclaimed Lucy, lightly, though a fleeting shade crossed her face.
"Why, I'd run away from him, if I was on the King, even if he got within ten
yards of me."
"A mile is close enough, my daughter," replied Bostil. "Don't ever forget to
keep your eye open. Cordts has sworn thet if he can't steal the King he'll get
you."
"Oh! he prefers the horse to me.


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