Part 17 (2/2)

”You'd forget your head, Carey, if it wasn't screwed on tight,”

declared the ranchman, without glancing at the big figure slouching in the doorway. ”Dan and his bunch light out for Beller's Gulch come mornin'.”

A little later it was a lighter step, and the jingle of spurs on the veranda floor.

”Tumbleweed done sprung his knee, Mist' Ham-mon'. Kyan't use him nohow fo' a while.”

”My lawsy!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Rhoda's father, ”seems to me most of you fellers ain't fitted to take care of a saw horse, let alone a sure enough pony. Some of you will have to ride mules if you don't stop ruinin' my horseflesh.”

”Wal, Tumbleweed is right fidgety,” complained the cowboy.

”What do you want to ride--somethin' broke to a side-saddle?”

demanded the ranchman in disgust. ”Go rope a new pony out of that band Hesitation's just brought up. And be mighty careful not to get an outlaw. Hess says there's two or three in that band that are fresh out of the hills.”

These side remarks excited Walter. The girls, too, were interested.

Grace said she hoped there was not any horse as bad as the pony that ran away at Lakeview, and which Rhoda had stopped so dexterously.

”My _dear_!” laughed Rhoda, ”that wasn't a bad pony. She was only frisky. But Hess shall find you a perfectly safe mount.”

”I hope you will extend that promise to me,” said Nan, laughing.

”If I am to ride I want something I can stay on.”

”No bucking broncos for me, either,” cried Bess. ”At least, not until I have learned to ride better than I do at present.”

They went to bed that night wearied after traveling so far, but much excited as to what the next day would bring forth.

CHAPTER XIV

THE POOR LITTLE CALF

Nan awoke when it was still utterly dark. Nothing had frightened her, and yet she felt that something really important was about to happen--something wonderful! What it could be, she had no idea. Her imagination was not at all spurring her mind. She only knew that she was on the verge of a new and surprising experience.

There were three beds in the big room, and she could hear Bess and Grace breathing calmly in their own cots. But she was wide awake.

Without speaking, or making any more sound than she could help, Nan Sherwood crept out of bed. The air from the open windows was chill, so she knew it must be near dawn.

She slipped her feet into slippers and shrugged her robe about her.

Then she crept to the nearest cas.e.m.e.nt. She had to kneel to see out, for the window, which looked to the east, was under the eaves of the ranch house. The sill was only a foot above the floor.

Nan folded her arms on this sill and looked out into the velvety darkness. A great silence seemed to brood over the country which she could not see. She remembered how lonely the ranch house seemed to be when she had first seen it the previous afternoon. Even the bunk houses where the help slept were at some distance, and not in this easterly direction.

Blackness seemed to have shut down all about the great dwelling, like a curtain. The roses weighted the air with their delicious scent. She even had to reach forth and separate the p.r.i.c.kly vines carefully so as to make an opening through which she hoped soon to see.

For she knew now what it was that had awakened her--what it was that was about to happen. Dawn was coming! The sun would soon appear! A new day was in the making just below the horizon which she could not see.

A haze had been drawn over the stars; therefore there was absolutely no light in the world. Not yet. But--

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