Once, when a little girl, she had seen it and never forgotten it, nor the thing that it was associated with--something tragical which had happened in the big room.

There had been loud, angry voices of men--and shots--and then the men carried out a long form covered with a blanket.
She loved her father, but there was a side to him she feared.

And somehow related to that side was his hardness toward Creech and his intolerance of any rider owning a fast horse and his obsession in regard to his own racers.

Lucy had often tantalized her father with the joke that if it ever came to a choice between her and his favorites they would come first.

But was it any longer a joke?
Lucy felt that she had left childhood behind with its fun and fancies, and she had begun to look at life thoughtfully.
Sight of the corrals, however, and of the King prancing around, drove serious thoughts away.