He managed to clamber back into the saddle.
"There are vicious elements in the nature of this brute," he observed to the girl.
"I'm very sorry," she murmured.

He cast a sidelong glance but found not the trace of a smile.
"The word upon which I--" "Stopped ?" she suggested.
"Stopped," he agreed, "was not, as you evidently assumed, an oath.

On the contrary, I was merely remarking that the trot is a damaging gait, but through an interrupted--er--articulation--" His eye dared her, but she was utterly grave.

He perceived that there was, after all, a certain kinship between this woman of the mountain-desert and the man thereof.

Their silences were filled with eloquence.
"We'll try a canter," she suggested, "and I think you'll find that easier." So she gave the word, and her bay sprang into a lope from a standing start.