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Chapter 62

           Shestopsreflectingly—herescortconstrainedtodothesame.

           "MrYancey,"saysshe,afterashortpause,"mysaddlehasgotloose.Icannotsitcomfortablyinit.Havethegoodnesstolooktothegirths!"

           Yanceyleapstotheground,delightedwiththedutythusimposeduponhim.

           Heexaminesthegirths.Inhisopiniontheydonotwanttightening.Hedoesnotsayso;but,undoingthebuckle,pullsuponthestrapwithallhisstrength.

           "Stay!"saysthefairequestrian,"letmealight.Youwillgetbetteratitthen."

           Withoutwaitingforhisassistance,shespringsfromherstirrup,andstandsbythesideofthemustang.

           Theyoungmancontinuestotugatthestraps,pullingwithallthepowerofhisarms.

           Afteraprolongedstruggle,thatturnshimredintheface,hesucceedsinshorteningthembyasinglehole.

           "Now,MissPoindexter;Ithinkitwilldo."

           "Perhapsitwill,"rejoinsthelady,placingherhanduponthehornofhersaddle,andgivingitaslightshake."Nodoubtitwilldonow.Afterall’tisapitytostartbacksosoon.I’vejustarrivedhereafterafastgallop;andmypoorLunahasscarcehadtimetobreatheherself.Whatifwestophereawhile,andletherhavealittlerest?’Tiscrueltotakeherbackwithoutit."

           "Butyourfather?Heseemeddesirousyoushould—"

           "ThatIshouldgohomeatonce.That’snothing.’Twasonlytogetmeoutofthewayoftheseroughmen—thatwasall.Hewon’tcare;solongasI’moutofsight.

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