range what
impressions you get sometimes. Now I kind o' thought you was mad at me,
the way you called out to stop. Anyways, you looked mad."

"I was only sorry for the horse," Betty explained gravely. "He was game,
as you say, and I hated to see his spirit entirely broken."

Andy Rawlinson looked at her with admiring approval in his nice eyes.

"There speaks the real lover of animals," he cried enthusiastically. "I
hate to break a good hoss myself, but you see it has to be done--for the
sake of the hoss. A hoss that's a bad actor is mighty like a mad dog.
It has to be killed--or broke. So we break 'em. But now," he said,
glancing toward the corrals, "I reckon you young ladies would like to
pick out some nice gentle hosses to ride while you're here."

The girls nodded and crowded forward eagerly while Andy called to some
of the cowboys who had been lingering enviously near.

"Bring out the sorrel and Nigger, will you, Jake?" he said to one of
them. "I'll corral Lady and Nabob."

The girls watched with interest while the boys corraled the four horses
Andy had selected and led them forth for the visitors' inspection.

They were splendid specimens of horse flesh, and for a moment the girls
were simply lost in admiration. Nigger, as his name implied, was a
magnificent coal-black animal without a speck of white upon him
anywhere. He and Betty seemed to form a mutual admiration society on the
instant, for with a gentle whinny he cantered up to the girl and began
nosing inquisitively in her pocket in search of sugar. Luckily Betty had
brought some with her, and she fed a couple of lumps to the beautiful
animal, thereby definitely sealing their pact of friendship.

"Oh you, Nigger!" crooned Betty joyfully, as she rubbed the velvet
muzzle. "You and I are going to be great little pals, aren't we? You
perfect old darling!" And Nigger whinnied again and nosed about for more
sugar.

"Well, I like that," cried Grace, breaking the silence in which they had
all been enjoyably regarding the little scene. "Betty doesn't have to
choose her horse--it chooses her."

"Oh well, Betty always did have a way with her," laughed Mollie, and
promptly turned her attention to the remaining three horses.

"Lady" was a lovely white filly with whom Amy fell in love immediately.

"This one's mine," she cried, putting a possessive hand on Lady's flank
while the latter turned her dainty head and regarded the girl out of
softly-wistful brown eye