Who is the man who takes him?
Who?
Who ?" "'Tis a fellow who hath no manners," said the man she stormed at, grinning and thrusting his tongue in his cheek.

"He says 'tis his beast, and not yours, and he will have him when he chooses." "'Tis not his--'tis mine!" shrieked Miss, her little face inflamed with passion.

"I will kill him! 'Tis my horse.

He _shall_ be mine!" For a while the men tormented her, to hear her rave and see her passion, for, in truth, the greater tempest she was in, the better she was worth beholding, having a colour so rich, and eyes so great and black and flaming.

At such times there was naught of the feminine in her, and indeed always she looked more like a handsome boy than a girl, her growth being for her age extraordinary.