"I--I don't know this horse, and if he starts running the
boys might not catch him in time. It isn't safe, is it?"
"It's safe," said Lone pityingly. "You won't be dragged. You just get on
and ride. I'll lead him. John Doe's gentle as a dog."
"Just straight riding?" Lorraine considered the matter gravely.
"Wel-ll--but I saw a man dragged, once. He'd been shot first. It--it
was awful!"
"I'll bet it was. How'd you come to be walking so far?"
Lorraine looked at him suspiciously. Lone thought her eyes were the most
wonderful eyes--and the most terrible--that he had ever seen.
Almond-shaped they were, the irises a clear, dark gray, the eyeballs
blue-white like a healthy baby's. That was the wonder of them. But their
glassy shine made them terrible. Her lids lifted in a sudden stare.
"You're not the man, are you? I--I think he was taller than you. And his
hat was brown. He's a brute--a _beast_! To shoot a man just riding
along---- It rained," she added plaintively. "My bag is back there
somewhere under a bush. I think I could find the bush--it was where a
rabbit was sitting--but he's probably gone by this time.
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