ne unhappy moment, the little girl
brought all her faithful work to naught, imperiled her birthday hopes,
and cast herself adrift upon the prairie like a voyager in a rudderless
boat. For, in stooping to pull the sheepskin saddle-blanket over her
bare legs, she unthinkingly let go of the bridle, and, the pinto putting
her head down to graze, the short reins slipped along her mane until
they rested just behind her ears--far out of reach.

The little girl slapped her as hard as she could with her hands; but,
even when the mare raised her head and walked about, the little girl
could not get at the reins because she was tightly fastened to the
girth. So the pinto went where she pleased, paying no attention to angry
commands, or to the pounding inflicted upon her flanks by the fists of
the irate little girl.

All this time the herd, too, fed where it chose and had moved out of the
meadows toward the farm. The little girl was powerless to turn it, and
when she set the pack at the cattle they only ran faster than ever
toward the fields. So she called the dogs off. Slowly, but surely, the
cows led the forbidden way, and as the little girl moved about on the
pinto, powerless to go where she wished or to turn them back, she
watched them, swelling with very rage in her helplessness, and wept
bitterly.

When the herd was out of sight over the rise south of the meadow, the
pinto, with her reluctant rider, again went riverward. This time the
mare took a good drink, wading in so far that the little girl's anger
turned to fear and she cried harder than ever. As the horse came out of
the stream, the loud _yur_, _yur_, of a frightened crow, whose nest was
in the willow fringe, startled the blind black colt, and he started on a
run up the river. His mother, whinnying loudly, followed him and broke
into such a hard gallop that the little girl was bounced rudely about
and would have fallen to the ground had not the hame-straps firmly held
her.

Away they went, the colt in the lead and the pinto after, until they
reached the bunch of cottonwoods far up the stream where the yanging
wild geese had their nests. Then the colt came to a halt and waited
tremblingly for his anxious mother.

The black colt had a wild fear of crows, for it was due to them that he
had been blind ever since, a few days after his birth, he had
accompanied his mother across the reservation road to the sloughs
beyond. He had trotted happily at her side as they went,