"You would have been down into the canyon by now, and you ought to be thankful." "So I am," he hastened to say, "very! But," he added, unwilling to give up his contention, "I have crossed the Swan before." "Not when it was in flood." "Yes, when it was in flood, higher than now." "Not where the banks are rocky." "No-o!" he hesitated.
"There, then, you WOULD have been drowned but for my lariat!" she cried, triumphantly.
To this he doubtfully assented.
They were much alike, in high temper, in enthusiasm, in vivid imagination, and in sensitive feeling.

When the Old Timer came in Gwen triumphantly introduced The Pilot as having been rescued from a watery grave by her lariat, and again they fought out the possibilities of drowning and of escape till Gwen almost lost her temper, and was appeased only by the most profuse expressions of gratitude on the part of The Pilot for her timely assistance.

The Old Timer was perplexed.

He was afraid to offend Gwen and yet unwilling to be cordial to her guest.
The Pilot was quick to feel this, and, soon after tea, rose to go.
Gwen's disappointment showed in her face.
"Ask him to stay, dad," she said, in a whisper.

But the half-hearted invitation acted like a spur, and The Pilot was determined to set off.
"There's a bad storm coming," she said; "and besides," she added, triumphantly "you can't cross the Swan." This settled it, and the most earnest prayers of the Old Timer could not have held him back.
We all went down to see him cross, Gwen leading her pinto.