"In that mood she'll ride to
Sanderson. My dear fellow, don't stare so. I understand many things now.
Sally is a flirt. She would drive any man mad. Russ, I've grown in a
short time to like you. If you'll be a man--give up drinking and
gambling--maybe you'll have a chance with her. Hurry now--go after her."
I mounted and spurred my horse after Sally's. She was down on the level
now, out in the open, and giving her mount his head. Even had I wanted
to overhaul her at once the matter would have been difficult, well nigh
impossible under five miles.
Sally had as fast a horse as there was on the range; she made no weight
in the saddle, and she could ride. From time to time she looked back
over her shoulder.
I gained enough to make her think I was trying to catch her. Sally loved
a horse; she loved a race; she loved to win.
My good fortune had given me more than one ride alone with Sally. Miss
Sampson enjoyed riding, too; but she was not a madcap, and when she
accompanied us there was never any race.
When Sally got out alone with me she made me ride to keep her from
disappearing somewhere on the horizon. This morning I wanted her to
enjoy to the fullest her utter freedom and to feel that for once I could
not catch her.
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