he house. And at that very moment, with the
winding of the cow-horn for its farewell salute, the last yellow rind of
the sun went out of sight below the level line of the prairie.

* * * * *

EARLY the next day, while the little girl's big brothers were busy with
the chores, she mounted her pony and rode away southward from the
farm-house. At the reservation road, she faced toward the sun and struck
her horse to a canter. A mile out on the prairie to the east, she turned
due north up a low ravine; and finally completed almost a perfect square
by coming west, when on a line with the carnelian bluff, to the edge of
the corn-field. There she tied her pony to a large stone on the slope of
the bluff and well out of sight of the house, and, after hunting up the
hoe, started energetically to cover up the planting of the day before.

She began at the bluff on the first uncovered row, and swung down it
rapidly, her hoe flashing brightly in the sun as she pulled the dirt
over the kernels. But when she had gone less than half the distance to
the meadow she stopped at a hill and anxiously examined it a moment. She
went on to the next without using her hoe, then on to the next and the
next; and, finally, putting it across her shoulder, walked slowly to the
end.

Arrived at the edge of the meadow, she turned about and followed up
another row. Her hoe was still across her shoulder, and she did not stop
to use it until she was near the bluff. When she reached the meadow the
second time, she sat down on the row-marker and looked out across the
timothy.

"Goodness!" she said, addressing the half-dozen animated stakes that
were eying her from a proper distance, "you've done it!"

The gophers stood straighter than ever when they heard her voice, and
new ones came from their burrows and sat up to watch her, with their
fore paws held primly in front of them, their tails lying out motionless
behind, and their slender heads poised pertly--with no movement except
the twinkle of sharp, black eyes and the quiver of long whiskers.

"And there ain't 'nough seed left in that barrel," went on the little
girl, "to plant a single row over again."

She sat on the marker a long time, a sorrowful little figure, in deep
study. And when she finally rose and resumed work at the upper end of
the strip, she thought with dread of the disclosure that sprouting-time
would bring.

An hour later, she untied her pony and clim