Her Prairie Knight
belongs to my brother," she explained, "and my brother has dozens of good saddle-horses. Mr. Cameron's horse is a pet. It's different when a horse follows you all over the place and fairly talks to you. He'll shake hands, and"
"Uh-huh, I see the point, I guess. What d'yuh say, kid?"
Keith might seem boyish, but he did not enjoy being addressed as "kid." He was twenty-eight years old, whether he looked it or not.
"I say this: If you take my horse, I'll kill you. I'll have twenty-five cow-punchers camping on your trail before sundown. If you take this girl's horse, I'll do the same."
The man shut his lips in a thin line.
"No, he won't!" cried Beatrice, leaning forward, "Don't mind a thing he says! You can't expect a man to keep his temper with his hands up in the air like that. You take Rex, and I'll promise for Mr. Cameron"
"Trix—Miss Lansell!"—sternly.
"I promise you he won't do a thing," she went on firmly. "He—he isn't half as fierce, really, as—as he looks."
Keith's face got red.
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