Chapter 7. Beatrice's Wild Ride - Page 2

miles tried to convince himself that he would rather talk to Dick and "the old maid" than not.

"Don't you know," Sir Redmond remarked sympathetically, "some of these Western fellows are inclined to be deuced officious and impertinent."

Sir Redmond got a taste of the freezing process that made him change the subject abruptly.

The way was rough and lonely; the trail wound over sharp-nosed hills and through deep, narrow coulees, with occasional, tantalizing glimpses of the river and the open land beyond, that kept Beatrice in a fever of enthusiasm. From riding blithely ahead, she took to lagging far behind with her kodak, getting snap-shots of the choicest bits of scenery.

"Another cartridge, please, Sir Redmond," she said, and wound industriously on the finished roll.

"It's a jolly good thing I brought my pockets full." Sir Redmond fished one out for her. "Was that a dozen?"

"No; that had only six films. I want a larger one this time. It is a perfect nuisance to stop and change. Be still, Goldie!"

"We're getting rather a long way behind--but I fancy the road is plain."

"We'll hurry and overtake them. I won't take any more pictures."

"Until you chance upon something you can't resist. I understand all that, you know." Sir Redmond, while he teased, was pondering whether this was an auspicious time and place to ask Beatrice to marry him. He had tried so many times and places that seemed auspicious, that the man was growing fearful. It is not pleasant to have a girl smile indulgently upon you and deftly turn your avowals aside, so that they fall flat.

"I'm ready," she announced, blind to what his eyes were saying.

"Shall we trek?" Sir Redmond sighed a bit. He was not anxious to overtake the others.

"We will. Only, out here people never 'trek,' Sir Redmond. They 'hit the trail'."

"So they do. And the way these cowboys do it, one would think they were couriers, by Jove! with the lives of a whole army at stake. So I fancy we had better hit the trail, eh?"

"You're learning," Beatrice assured him, as they started on. "A year out here, and you would be a real American, Sir Redmond."

Sir Redmond came near saying, "The Lord forbid!" but he thought better of it. Beatrice was intensely loyal to her countrymen, unfortunately, and would certainly resent such a remark; but, for all that, he thought it.

For a mile or two she held to her resolve, and then, at the top of a long hill overlooking the canyon where they were to eat their lunch, out came her kodak again.

"This must be Lost Canyon, for Dick has stopped by those trees. I want to get just one view from here. Steady, Goldie! Dear me, this horse does