"I didn't know you rode," was one of her first remarks. "I
imagined you were wedded to get-there-quick machines."

"I've just taken it up lately," was his answer. "Beginning to
get stout; you know, and had to take it off somehow."

She gave a quick sidewise glance that embraced him from head to
heel, including seat and saddle, and said:--

"But you've ridden before."

She certainly had an eye for horses and things connected with
horses was his thought, as he replied:--

"Not for many years. But I used to think I was a regular
rip-snorter when I was a youngster up in Eastern Oregon, sneaking
away from camp to ride with the cattle and break cayuses and
that sort of thing."

Thus, and to his great relief, were they launched on a topic of
mutual interest. He told her about Bob's tricks, and of the
whirl and his scheme to overcome it; and she agreed that horses
had to be handled with a certain rational severity, no matter how
much one loved them. There was her Mab, which she had for eight
years and which she had had break of stall-kicking. The process
had been painful for Mab, but it had cured her.

"You've ridden a lot," Daylight said.