SUE DECLARES HER LOVE.

It was Waterbury who was lying unconscious on the lonely Logan Pike;
Waterbury who had been thrown as the bay gelding strove desperately to
overhaul the flying runaway filly.

Sue had gone for an evening ride. She wished to be alone. It had been
impossible to lose the ubiquitous Mr. Waterbury, but this evening The
Rogue had evinced premonitory symptoms of a distemper, and the greatly
exercised colonel had induced the turfman to ride over and have a look
at him. This left Sue absolutely unfettered, the first occasion in a
week.

She was of the kind who fought out trouble silently, but not placidly.
She must have something to contend against; something on which to
work out the distemper of a heart and mind not in harmony. She must
experience physical exhaustion before resignation came. In learning a
lesson she could not remain inactive. She must walk, walk, up and down,
up an down, until its moral or text was beaten into her mentality with
her echoing footsteps.

On this occasion she was in the humor to dare the impossible; dare
through sheer irritability of heart--not mind. And so she saddled
Lethe--an unregenerate pinto of the Southern Trail, whose concealed
devilishness forcibly reminded one of Balzac's famous description: "A
clenched fist hidden in an empty sleeve."

She had been forbidden to ride the pinto ever since the day it was
brought home to her with irrefutable emphasis that the shortest distance
between two points is a straight line. It was more of a parabola she