Madge had speedily joined him, and looked with absorbed interest, at times laughing, and again imploring Graydon to dismount.
This he at last he did, the perspiration pouring from his face.
Resigning the trembling and wearied horse to a stable-boy, he came toward the young girl, mopping his brow and exclaiming: "It will never do at all.

He is ugly as sin.

No woman should ride him, not even a squaw." "Bah, Graydon! he did not throw you, although he had you at every disadvantage.

I'm not in the least afraid.

Has the saddle come ?" "Yes; but I protest, Madge.