"It does," he admitted frankly. "I'm glad I went into the
game--just as glad as I am that I pulled out of it. . . . Yep, it's
taught me a lot--to keep my eyes open an' my head cool. Oh, I've
got a temper, a peach of a temper. I get scared of myself
sometimes. I used to be always breakin' loose. But the fightin'
taught me to keep down the steam an' not do things I'd be sorry
for afterward."

"Why, you're the sweetest, easiest tempered man I know," she
interjected.

"Don't you believe it. Just watch me, and sometime you'll see me
break out that bad that I won't know what I'm doin' myself. Oh,
I'm a holy terror when I get started!"

This tacit promise of continued acquaintance gave Saxon a little
joy-thrill.

"Say," he said, as they neared her neighborhood, "what are you
doin' next Sunday?"

"Nothing. No plans at all."

"Well, suppose you an' me go buggy-riding all day out in the
hills?"

She did not answer immediately, and for the moment she was seeing
the nightmare vision of her last buggy-ride; of her fear and her
leap from the buggy; and of the long miles and the stumbling