the spot. He poked his nose into
her lap and rubbed it against her hands and ate sugar from her fingers.

[Illustration: MARTHA RIDES DAN OVER THE HURDLE.]

"Oh, I wish I could ride him!" said Scylla.

"He never was so cordial before, not even with me," said Martha.

Then she suddenly thought of something, and after intrusting her horses
to one of the cow-boys, went and talked it over in whispers with her
brother, Scylla's father, and the doctor, who had been discussing
politics together on one end of the porch. After this mysterious
conversation had lasted a little while, Martha danced back to Scylla, so
happy that she "just _had_ to hop."

"Oh, Scylla!" she exclaimed, "you _can_ ride him. Your papa says so and
the doctor says so and Brother says so. John is going to fix up one of
my saddles for you with an extra strap to keep you from falling, and
Texas likes you so much he will be gentle and careful as he can be, I
know. And the doctor says he thinks it will do you good, if John and I
keep close by you all the time, so there won't be any danger."

The following days at the ranch were very pleasant ones for Martha and
her visitor. In the morning after the work was done--Martha always did
some of the light house duties--they would watch with never-flagging
interest the great herds of cattle as they were driven on their way for
shipment from Amarilla, and gossip as girls do. Sometimes the cattle
passed quite near to the house, but oftener they were half a mile or
more away on the prairie--sometimes so far that the great herds seemed
to be mere black blots moving over the dun brown of the Texas grass.

Every afternoon the two girls went riding, escorted either by John or
one of the men employed about the ranch. John had fixed one of Martha's
saddles so that poor little Scylla could not fall, and Texas seemed to
bear his tiny burden with more than ordinary care. At first they rode
very slowly, and for only a few moments at a time; but Scylla gained
strength daily, and by the end of the second week had improved so much
that she could ride for an hour without great fatigue, and Texas was
occasionally allowed to start his gentle gallop.

It was as they were returning from one of these rides that Scylla's
sharp eyes spied the figure of a horseman rushing out to them from the
ranch. He waved his hat and yelled, firing his revolver between whoops
and generally conducted himself like a madman. Martha recognized him at
on