"I merely asked if you had an empty pocket." Evadna clung the
tighter.
"Now, what's the use--"
"Just what I was thinking!" Evadna was so impolite as to
interrupt him.
Good Indian was not skilled in the management of women, but he
knew horses, and to his decision he added an amendment.
Instinctively he followed the method taught him by experience,
and when he fancied he saw in her eyes a sign of weakening, he
followed up the advantage he had gained.
"Let go--because I'm going to have it anyway, now," he said
quietly, and took the flask gently from her hands. Then he
smiled at her for yielding, and his smile was a revelation to the
girl, and brought the blood surging up to her face. She rode
meekly beside him at the pace he himself set--which was not
rapid, by any means. He watched her with quick, sidelong
glances, and wondered whether he would dare say what he wanted to
say--or at least a part of it.
She was gazing with a good deal of perseverance at the trail,
down the windings of which the others could be seen now and then
galloping through the dust, so that their progress was marked
always by a smothering cloud of gray.
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