Yet he lingered.
"It's rough work for a lone woman," he said, almost curtly, "_I_ can't go with you, but, speak frankly, is there any man you know whom you can trust well enough to take?
It's not too late yet; think a moment!" He paused over the buttoning of the leather apron of the vehicle.
"No, there is none," answered the voice from the interior; "and it's better so.

Is all ready ?" "One moment more." He had recovered his half bantering manner.

"You _have_ a friend and countryman already with you, do you know?
Your horse is Blue Grass.

Good-night." With these words ringing in her ears she began her journey.

The horse, as if eager to maintain the reputation which his native district had given his race, as well as the race of the pretty woman behind him, leaped impatiently forward.