with the fear of this unknown evil on its soul, varied its
bucking so effectively that the puncher astride its hurricane
deck was forced, in the language of his kind, to "take the dust."

His red head sailed through the air and landed in the white sand
at the girl's feet. For a moment he sat in the road and gazed
with chagrin after the vanishing heels of his mount. Then his
wrathful eyes came round to the owner of the machine that had
caused the eruption. His mouth had opened to give adequate
expression to his feelings, when he discovered anew the forgotten
fact that he was dealing with a woman. His jaw hung open for an
instant in amaze; and when he remembered the unedited vocabulary
he had turned loose on the world a flood of purple swept his
tanned face.

She wanted to laugh, but wisely refrained. "I'm very sorry," was
what she said.

He stared in silence as he slowly picked himself from the ground.
His red hair rose like the quills of a porcupine above a face
that had the appearance of being unfinished. Neither nose nor
mouth nor chin seemed to be quite definite enough.

She choked down her gayety and offered renewed apologies.

"I was going for a doc," he explained, by way of opening his
share of the conversation.

"Then perhaps you had better jump in with me and ride back to the
Lazy D. I suppose that's where you came from?"