I'd give you fifty for him on the strength of his looks and keep him for a decoration." She could only glare her speechless rage for a moment.

Then she changed swiftly and threw out her hands in a little gesture of surrender.
"After all, what difference does it make?
Your Mary can beat him in a long run or a short one, but it's your horse, Pierre, and that takes the sting away.

If it were anyone else's I'd--well, I'd shoot either the horse or the rider.

But my partner's horse is my horse, you know." He swerved his mare sharply to the left and took her hand with a strong grip.
"Jack, of all the men I've ever known, I'd rather ride with you, I'd rather fight for you." "Of all the _men_ you ever knew," she said, "I suppose that I am." He did not hear the low voice, for he was looking out over the canyon.
A few moments later they swung out onto the very crest of the range.
On all sides the hills dropped away through the gloom of the evening, brown nearby, but falling off through a faint blue haze and growing blue-black with the distance.

A sharp wind, chill with the coming of night, cut at them.