If you was a man I would n't be passin' conversation polite and proper. The owner of a hoss animal don't have much to say to the man who stole him when he meets up with that man; one or t'other mostly 's beyond talk. You 'll oblige me, ma'am, by gettin' down off my hoss."
Hilma, quick to press the advantage her feminine guile had established, tossed her head with a laugh.
"And if I don't get down?" she challenged. Instantly the girl regretted carrying the high hand so far. By a sudden pressure of the knees Original had ranged his horse alongside Tige, and his left arm whipped out to encircle her waist. She felt herself lifted from the saddle as if she were a child, and even as she twisted to bring her hands into play she was lowered across the man's saddle horn. She gave her shoulders a mighty heave to break the grip across her biceps, but, somehow, the struggle only seemed to tighten the steel band that held them close to her body.
The girl's body was bent slowly back until her eyes were forced to meet the black eyes above them. These were dancing now. The lips of the man were parted in a radiant smile. His whole face beamed impish mischief.
