"What pains me is, why he didn't kill that Indian when he had the chance."
"Well, he got ten days' free board for it."
There was a rattle of applause as he rode out into the field. He ignored it, but he heard it; he sat a little straighter, put his gloved hand more jauntily on his thigh, and hoped that Kay had arrived to hear it. He was more nearly his old reckless self than he had been for months.
But Kay had not heard it. She came in rather late, to find the crowd assembled, the band blaring, and the races filling in the time until the bucking began.
The dust was intense. Her feet sank into it as into a cushion. Just as she passed before the grand-stand she was suddenly self-conscious and uncomfortable. It seemed to her that all the eyes had left the track and were focussed on her. She even heard a voice:
"There she is now. I knew she hadn't come yet."
And once seated she was aware still of intent concentrated inspection. The chatter around her had practically ceased. Not for a long time did she dare to take her eyes from the dusty track before her and to glance around; when she did, the gazes around her became instantly absorbed in the racing. She saw only immobile faces.
After a time she relaxed. The judges in the stand across became individuals in straw hats and an occasional Stetson, with Mr. Tulloss among them. The bandsmen below them had taken off their coats and were playing in their shirt-sleeves. Boys selling near-beer and pop were moving about. Tom, with a dozen or so of other mounted men, was waiting by the corral inside the track.
She felt happier when she had located him, and less alone. She watched him, apparently so unself-conscious of his audience, and after a time she decided that he was less so than he seemed. She even thought he was quietly touching his horse with his spurs. The horse would rear and show excitement, but Tom sat him straight and somehow splendid, but certainly posed. Oh, certainly posed. She was vaguely annoyed. She looked around the grand-stand, and she
