The young man felt rather amused and flattered. He reflected that most
women he knew would have ridden by his side, and tried to make him talk.
But this girl of the wilderness rode straight ahead as if her life
depended upon it. She seemed to have nothing to say to him, and to be
anxious neither to impart her own history nor to know his.

Well, that suited his mood. He had come out into the wilderness to think
and to forget. Here was ample opportunity. There had been a little too
much of it yesterday, when he wandered from the rest of his party who had
come out to hunt; and for a time he had felt that he would rather be back
in his native city with a good breakfast and all his troubles than to be
alone in the vast waste forever. But now there was human company, and a
possibility of getting somewhere sometime. He was content.

The lithe, slender figure of the girl ahead seemed one with the horse it
rode. He tried to think what this ride would be if another woman he knew
were riding on that horse ahead, but there was very small satisfaction in
that. In the first place, it was highly improbable, and the young man was
of an intensely practical turn of mind. It was impossible to imagine the
haughty beauty in a brown calico riding a high-spirited horse of the
wilds. There was but one parallel. If she had been there, she would, in
her present state of mind, likely be riding imperiously and indifferently
ahead instead of by his side where he wanted her. Besides, he came out to
the plains to forget her. Why think of her?

The sky was exceedingly bright and wide. Why had he never noticed this
wideness in skies at home? There was another flock of birds. What if he
should try to shoot one? Idle talk. He would probably hit anything but the
birds. Why had that girl shot that bird, anyway? Was it entirely because