in all
eagerness and enthusiasm, loving and petting the mustang, which she
named "Pony." She had evidently anticipated an adventure, but her
smiling, resolute face had denoted confidence. Pony had stood fairly
well to be mounted, and then had pitched and tossed until Bo had slid
off or been upset or thrown. After each fall Bo bounced up with less of
a smile, and more of spirit, until now the Western passion to master a
horse had suddenly leaped to life within her. It was no longer fun, no
more a daring circus trick to scare Helen and rouse Dale's admiration.
The issue now lay between Bo and the mustang.

Pony reared, snorting, tossing his head, and pawing with front feet.

"Pull him down!" yelled Dale.

Bo did not have much weight, but she had strength, an she hauled with
all her might, finally bringing him down.

"Now hold hard an' take up rope an' get in to him," called Dale. "Good!
You're sure not afraid of him. He sees that. Now hold him, talk to him,
tell him you're goin' to ride him. Pet him a little. An' when he quits
shakin', grab his mane an' jump up an' slide a leg over him. Then hook
your feet under him, hard as you can, an' stick on."

If Helen had not been so frightened for Bo she would have been able to
enjoy her other sensations. Creeping, cold thrills chased over her as
Bo, supple and quick, slid an arm and a leg over Pony and straightened
up on him with a defiant cry. Pony jerked his head down, brought his
feet together in one jump, and began to bounce. Bo got the swing of him
this time and stayed on.

"You're ridin' him," yelled Dale. "Now squeeze hard with your knees.
Crack him over the head with your rope.... That's the way. Hang on now
an' you'll have him beat."

The mustang pitched all over the space adjacent to Dale and Helen,
tearing up the moss and grass. Several times he tossed Bo high, but she
slid back to grip him again with her legs, and he could not throw her.
Suddenly he raised his head and bolted. Dale answered Bo's triumphant
cry. But Pony had not run fifty feet before he tripped and fell,
throwing Bo far over his head. As luck would have it--good luck,
Dale afterward said--she landed in a boggy place and the force of her
momentum was such that she slid several yards, face down, in wet moss
and black ooze.

Helen uttered a scream and ran forward. Bo was getting to her knees when
Dale reached her. He helped her up and half led, half carried her out
of the boggy place. Bo was not