"Brownie certainly fits the description better," Jim said. "Never mind,
old girl, you'll probably grow into one. We'd be awfully proud of you if
you got really fat, Norah."

"Then I hope you'll never have cause for pride," retorted his sister.
"I couldn't ride Bosun if I did, and that would be too awful to think
about. Oh, and Tommy's making a great stock-rider, Bob. She declared she
could never ride astride, but she's perceiving the error of her ways."

"I thought I could never stick on without the moral support of the
pommels," said Tommy. "When you arrange yourself among pommels and horns
and things on a side-saddle, there seems no real reason why you should
ever come off, except of your own free will. But a man's saddle doesn't
offer any encouragement to a poor scared new-chum. I pictured myself
sliding off it whenever the horse side-stepped. However, somehow, it
doesn't happen."

"And what happens when your steed slews around after a bullock?" asked
Jim.

"Indeed, I hardly know," said Tommy modestly. "I generally shut my eyes,
and hold on to the front of the saddle. After a while I open them,
and find, to my astonishment, that nothing has occurred, and I'm still
there. Then we sail along after Norah, and I hold up my head proudly and
look as if that were really the way I have always handled cattle. And
she isn't a bit taken in. It's dreadfully difficult to impress Norah."

Every one laughed, and looked at the new-chum affectionately. This small
English girl, so ready to laugh at her own mistakes, had twined herself
wonderfully about their hearts. Even Brownie, jealous to the point of
prickliness for her adored Norah, and at first inclined to turn up a
scornful nose at "Miss Tommy's" pink and white daintiness, had been
forced to admit that she "could 'andle things like a workman." And that
was high praise from Brownie.

The telephone bell whirred in the hall, and Jim went out to answer it.
In a few minutes they heard his voice.

"Norah, just come here a moment." He came back presently, leaving Norah
at the telephone.

"It's Dr. Anderson," he said. "They're in trouble in Cunjee--there's a
pretty bad outbreak of influenza. Some returned men came up with it,
and now it's spreading everywhere, Anderson says. Mrs. Anderson has been
nursing in the hospital, but now two of her own kiddies have got it, so
she has had to go home, and they're awfully shorthanded. Nurses seem to
be scarce everywhere; they could only