"It's quite the nastiest country I ever saw," he said. "It
looks as though an earthquake had shaken it open and had
forgotten to close it again. Believe me, it is most unsafe
and dangerous. Your pony might stumble--" He stopped, as
though the possibilities were too serious for words, but the
girl laughed.

"It's no more dangerous than riding across our prairie at dusk
when you can't see the barbed wire. You are the last person
in the world to find fault because a thing is dangerous," she
added.

They had reached the farm, where they went to breakfast, and
the young Englishman who was their host was receiving his
guests in his garden, and the servants were passing among
them, carrying cool drinks and powdered sweets and Turkish
coffee. Kalonay gave their ponies to a servant and pointed
with his whip to an arbor that stood at one end of the garden.

"May we sit down there a moment until they call us?" he said.
"I have news of much importance--and I may not have another
chance," he begged, looking at her wistfully. The girl stood
motionless; her eyes were serious, and she measured the
distance down the walk to the arbor as though she saw it beset
with dangers more actual than precipices and twisted wire.
The Prince watched her as though his fate was being weighed in
his presence.

"Very well," she said at last, and moved on before him down
the garden-path.