the very spot where she stood. Yet she did not run.

The rider, lifting his bronco forward at full speed, won by a fraction
of a second. He guided in such a way as to bring his horse between her
and the steer. The girl noticed that he dropped his bridle rein and
crouched in the saddle, his eyes steadily upon her. Without slackening
his pace in the least as he swept past, the man stooped low, caught the
girl beneath the armpits, and swung her in front of him to the back of
the horse. The steer pounded past so close behind that one of its
horns grazed the tail of the cowpony.

It was a superb piece of horsemanship, perfectly timed, as perfectly
executed.

The girl lay breathless in the arms of the man, her heart beating
against his, her face buried in his shoulder. She was dazed, half
fainting from the reaction of her fear. The next she remembered
clearly was being lowered into the arms of her father.

He held her tight, his face tortured with emotion. She was the very
light of his soul, and she had shaved death by a hair's breadth. A
miracle had saved her, but he would never forget the terror that had
gripped him. Naturally, shaken, as he was, his relief found vent in
scolding.

"I told you to stay by the car, honey. But you're so willful. You've
got to have your own way. Thank God you're safe. If . . . if . . ."
His voice broke as he thought of what had so nearly been.

The girl snuggled closer to him, her arms round his neck. His anxiety