described, when, bucked off, her head smashed the ground, but the simile
serves.

But she would ride Lethe to-night. The other horses were too
comfortable. They served to irritate the bandit passions, not to subdue
them. She panted for some one, something, to break to her will.

Lethe felt that there was a passion that night riding her; a passion
that far surpassed her own. Womanlike, she decided to arbitrate. She
would wait until this all-powerful passion burned itself out; then she
could afford to safely agitate her own. It would not have grown less
in the necessary interim. So, much to Sue's surprise, the filly was as
gentle as the proverbial lamb.

As she turned for home, Waterbury rode out of the deepening shadows
behind her. He had left the colonel at his breeding-farm. Waterbury
and Sue rode in silence. The girl was giving all her attention to her
thoughts. What was left over was devoted to the insistent mouth
of Lethe, who ever and anon tested the grip on her bridle-rein;
ascertaining whether or not there were any symptoms of relaxation or
abstraction.

It is human nature to grow tired of being good. Waterbury's better
nature had been in the ascendancy for over a week. He thought he could
afford to draw on this surplus balance to his credit. He was riding very
close to Sue. He had encroached, inch by inch, but her oblivion had not
been inclination, as Waterbury fancied. He edged nearer. As she did not
heed the steal, he took it for a grant. We fit facts to our inclination.
The animal arose mightily in him. In stooping to avoid an overhanging
branch he brushed against her. The contact set him aflame. He was