dazed at first, but as he began to speak the color came back freshly to
his face. He could not conceive, he stammered, what had happened. He
was riding with Miss Atherly, and he supposed his horse had slipped upon
some withered pine needles and thrown him! A spasm of pain crossed his
face suddenly, and he lifted his hand to the top of his head. Was he
hurt THERE? No, but perhaps his hair, which was flowing and curly, had
caught in the branches--like Absalom's! He tried to smile, and even
begged them to assist him to his horse that he might follow his fair
companion, who would be wondering where he was; but Peter, satisfied
that he had received no serious injury, hurriedly enjoined him to stay,
while he himself would follow his sister. Putting spurs to his horse,
he succeeded, in spite of the slippery trail, in overtaking her near
the summit. At the sound of his horse's hoofs she wheeled quickly, came
dashing furiously towards him, and only pulled up at the sound of his
voice. But she had not time to change her first attitude and expression,
which was something which perplexed and alarmed him. Her long lithe
figure was half crouching, half clinging to the horse's back, her
loosened hair flying over her shoulders, her dark eyes gleaming with an
odd nymph-like mischief. Her white teeth flashed as she recognized
him, but her laugh was still mocking and uncanny. He took refuge in
indignation.

"What has happened?" he said sharply.

"The fool tried to kiss me!" she said simply. "And I--I--let out at
him--like mother!"

Nevertheless, she gave him one of those shy, timid glances he had
noticed before, and began coiling something around her fingers, with
a suggestion of coy embarrassment, indescribably inconsistent with her