g us with the
ponies.

These robust little animals were not miniature horses, but genuine
ponies, with all the deviltry, endurance, and speed of their kind. They
were jet-black, about waist high, and of great intelligence. They drew a
neat little rig, capable of accommodating two, at a persistent rapid
patter that somehow got over the road at a great gait. And they could
keep it up all day. Although perfectly gentle, they were as alert as
gamins for mischief, and delighted hugely in adding to the general row
and confusion if anything happened to go wrong. Mrs. Kitty drove them
everywhere. One day she attempted to cross an irrigation ditch that
proved to be deeper than she had thought it. The ponies disappeared
utterly, leaving Mrs. Kitty very much astonished. Horses would have
drowned in like circumstances, but the ponies, nothing daunted, dug in
their hoofs and scrambled out like a pair of dogs, incidentally dipping
their mistress on the way.

In the shade of a high greasewood we unpacked the pony carriage. This
was before the days of thermos bottles, so we had a most elaborate
wicker basket whose sides let down to form a wind shield protecting an
alcohol burner and a kettle. When the water boiled, we made hot tea, and
so came to lunch.

Strangely enough this was my first experience at having lunch brought
out to the field. Ordinarily we had been accustomed to carry a sandwich
or so in the side pockets of our shooting coats, which same we ate at
any odd moment that offered. Now was disclosed an astonishing variety.
There were sandwiches, of course, and a salad, and the tea, but
wonderful to contemplate was a deep dish of potted quail, row after row
of them, with delicious white sauce. In place of the frugal bite or so
that would have left us alert and fit for an afternoon's work, we ate
until nothing remained. Then we lit pipes and lay on our backs, and
contemplated a cloudless sky. It was the warm time of day. The horses
snoozed, a hind leg tucked up; old Ben lay outstretched in doggy
content; Mrs. Kitty knit or crocheted or something of that sort; and
Carrie and the Captain and I took cat naps. At length, the sun's rays no
longer striking warm from overhead, the Captain aroused us sternly.

"You're a nice, energetic, able lot of sportsmen!" he cried with
indignation. "Have I got to wait until sunset for you lazy chumps to get
a full night's rest?"

"Don't mind him," Mrs. Kitty told me, placidly; "he was sound a