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Updated: June 21, 2025
There was nothing moving within that great circular horizon of the Dakota prairies save the tall grasses, over which the wind blew and rolled off in long, shadowy waves. Within this vast wigwam of blue and green I rode reckless and insignificant. It satisfied my small consciousness to see the white foam fly from the pony's mouth.
He rode into the cañon, half conscious of Yuma's tracks ahead of him. He rode past the tracks as they swerved toward a grassy level near the stream. "Collie!" Louise stood beside the sweating Yuma, patting the pony's neck. Collie raised his sombrero formally. Louise was bareheaded. The clear morning sunlight enhanced her rich coloring.
Her hair was frizzled into a tangled chaparral, forward of her ears, aft it was drawn together, and compactly bound and plaited into a stump like a pony's tail, and furthermore was canted upward at a sharp angle, and ingeniously supported by a red velvet crupper, whose forward extremity was made fast with a half-hitch around a hairpin on the top of her head.
Lloyd thought it best to ride Sable for a week or two before Bert should mount him, and to this arrangement Bert was nothing loath, for the pony's actions while in process of being broken in had rather subdued his eagerness to trust himself upon him. As it chanced, Mr. Lloyd came very near paying a severe penalty for his thoughtfulness.
They must lack imagination, or how can they ride down the awful staircases of a West China road, the pony plunging from step to step under his heavy load? I doubt if they realize either the pony's suffering or the rider's danger. I did both, and so I often walked.
Mary Eden flushed with annoyance, and tried to stamp her foot, but only shook the stirrup, and sat still for a few moments, before trying cajolery. "The pony's quite quiet now, Dummy," she said gently. "Let him have his head again there's a good boy." Dummy shook his own, and Mary bit her red lip, and made it scarlet.
When Pony's mother heard that, it seemed as if she were going to do something about it. She said to his father: "I don't like Pony's going with Jim Leonard so much. He's had nobody else with him for two weeks, and now he's sitting with him in school." Pony's father said, "I don't believe Jim Leonard will hurt Pony. What makes you like him, Pony?" Pony said, "Oh, nothing," and his father laughed.
The sky was now of a brightness not far from day, and, turning east, in the direction pointed out, Charles Merchant saw a horseman ride over a hilltop, a black form against the coloring horizon. He was moving leisurely, keeping his horse at the cattle pony's lope. Presently he dipped away out of sight. John Merchant dropped his hand on the shoulder of his son. "What is it?" he asked.
The next instant he had loped into the brush on the tracks of Panfilo Sanchez, spurring the tired gray pony into vigorous action. It was an uncomfortable situation in which Alaire now found herself. Law was too suspicious, she murmured to herself; he was needlessly melodramatic; she felt exceedingly ill at ease as the pony's hoof-beats grew fainter.
It grew so clear at last that he marked with some accuracy the direction from which it came. If this was Silent's camp, it must be strongly guarded, and he should approach the place more cautiously than he could possibly do on a horse. Accordingly he dismounted, threw the reins over the pony's head, and started on through the willows. The whistling became louder and louder.
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