Plainly the rider held
the mastery.
"Dad!" called Lucy, faintly.
Bostil went forward, close, while the rider held Wildfire. Lucy was as
wan-faced as a flower by moonlight. Her eyes were dark with emotions, fear
predominating. Then for Bostil the half of his heart that was human reasserted
itself. Lucy was only a girl now, and weakening. Her fear, her pitiful little
smile, as if she dared not hope for her father's approval yet could not help
it, touched Bostil to the quick, and he opened his arms. Lucy slid down into
them.
"Lucy, girl, you've won the King's race an' double-crossed your poor old dad!"
"Oh, Dad, I never knew--I never dreamed Wildfire--would jump the King," Lucy
faltered. "I couldn't hold him. He was terrible. . . . It made me sick. . . .
Daddy, tell me Van wasn't hurt--or the King!"
"The hoss's all right an' so's Van," replied Bostil. "Don't cry, Lucy. It was
a fool trick you pulled off, but you did it great. By Gad! you sure was ridin'
thet red devil. . . . An' say, it's all right with me!"
Lucy did not faint then, but she came near it.
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