"I mean to Mr. Prince's house. Quick! before they can come up to us."

He mechanically put spurs to his horse; she followed. They presently
struck into a trail that soon diverged again into a disused logging
track through the woods.

"This is the short cut to Prince's, by two miles," he said, as they
entered the woods.

As they were still galloping, without exchanging a word, Christie began
to slacken her speed; George did the same. They were safe from intrusion
at the present, even if the others had found the short cut. Christie,
bold and self-reliant a moment ago, suddenly found herself growing weak
and embarrassed. What had she done?

She checked her horse suddenly.

"Perhaps we had better wait for them," she said timidly.

George had not raised his eyes to hers.

"You said you wanted to hurry home," he replied gently, passing his hand
along his mustang's velvety neck, "and--and you had something to say to
me."

"Certainly," she answered, with a faint laugh. "I'm so astonished at
meeting you here. I'm quite bewildered. You are living here; you have
forsaken us to buy a ranche?" she continued, looking at him attentively.