Stafford advanced to put her in the saddle; but, with a little shake of
the head and a "Don't trouble," she sprang into her place and rode off.
Stafford looked after her, as he had done before; then he said, "Well,
I'm d-----d!"
He felt for his pouch, filled his pipe and lit it, and in doing so his
eyes fell upon the little wallet from which she had taken her tweezers.
He picked it up and quickly shouted to her; but the dogs were barking
with furious delight, she was cracking her whip, and she had ridden too
far for her to hear him through the noise. It would have been sheer
folly to have run after her; so, with a shrug of his shoulders,
Stafford put the little wallet in his pocket, waded the stream and,
after a moment or two of consideration, made for the inn by the nearest
way, to wit, across the hill.
The girl rode along the strip of level moorland beside the river until
she came to a narrow and not particularly well--kept road which led
through the opening of the hills towards which she had motioned her
whip. Once or twice a smile crossed her face, and once she laughed as
she thought of the comical picture which the young man had made as he
struggled to dry land with the wet lamb in his arms; and the smile and
her laugh made her face seem strangely girlish, because it was usually
so calm, so gravely self-reliant.
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