Her Prairie Knight
"He couldn't have got this far," said Keith. "His legs would give out, climbing up and down. We'll go back by a little different way, and look."
"There's something moving, off there." Beatrice pointed with her whip.
"That's a coyote," Keith told her; and then, seeing the look on her face: "They won't hurt any one. They're the rankest cowards on the range."
"But the snakes"
"Oh, well, he might wander around for a week, and not run across one. We won't borrow trouble, anyway."
"No," she agreed languidly. The sun was hot, and she had not had anything to eat since early breakfast, and the river mocked her parched throat with its cool glimmer below. She looked down at it wistfully, and Keith, watchful of every passing change in her face, led her back to where a cold, little spring crept from beneath a rock; there, lifting her down, he taught her how to drink from her hand.
For himself, he threw himself down, pushed back his hat, and drank long and leisurely. A brown lock of hair, clinging softly together with moisture,
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