nadian,
had turned Plainsman and gone to the Southwest and had not been heard of
afterwards. While we had small grounds for fear, we kept our ponies in a
little group coming in side by side on the home stretch. All the purple
shadows of those sweet summer twilights are blended with the memories of
those happy care-free hours.

In the long summer days the cows ranged wider to the west, and we
wandered farther in our evening jaunts and lingered later in the
fragrant draws where the sweet grasses were starred with many brilliant
blossoms. That is how we happened to be away out on the northwest
prairie that evening when Jean Pahusca found us, the evening when O'mie
read my secret in my tell-tale face. Even to-day a storm cloud in the
northwest with the sunset flaming against its jagged edges recalls that
scene. The cattle had all been headed homeward, and we were racing our
ponies down the long slope to the south. On the right the draw, watched
over by the big cottonwood, breaks through the height and finds its way
to the Neosho. The watershed between the river and Fingal's Creek is
here only a high swell, and straight toward the west it is level as a
floor.

The air of a hot afternoon had begun to ripple in cool little waves
against our faces. All the glory of the midsummer day was ending in
the grandeur of a crimson sunset shaded northward by that threatening
thundercloud. With our ponies lined up for one more race we were just on
the point of starting, when a whoop, a savage yell, and Jean Pahusca
rose above the edge of the draw behind us and dashed toward us headlong.
We knew he was drunk, for since Father Le Claire's coming among us he
had come to be a sort of gentleman Indian when he was sober; and we
caught the naked gleam of the short sharp knife he always wore in a
leather sheath at his belt. We were thrown into confusion, and some
ponies became unmanageable at once. It is the way of their breed to turn
traitor with the least sign of the rider's fear. At Jean's second whoop
there was a stampede. Marjie's pony gave a leap and started off at full
gallop toward the level west. Hers was the swiftest horse of all, but
the Indian coming at an angle had the advantage of space, and he singled
her out in a moment. Her hair hung down in two heavy braids, and as she
gave one frightened glance backward I saw her catch them both in one
hand and draw them over her shoulder as if to save them from the
scalping knife.

My pony