ng in dreamful doze. Dan and
Dick, the big plow team, stood near the door. Jule and Dolly came next.
Wild Frank, a fleet but treacherous Morgan, stood fifth and for a moment
I considered taking him. He was strong and of wonderful staying powers
but so savage and unreliable that I dared not risk an accident. I passed
on to bay Kittie whose bright eyes seemed to inquire, "What is the
matter?"

Flinging the blanket over her and smoothing it carefully, I tossed the
light saddle to her back and cinched it tight, so tight that she
grunted. "I can't take any chances of a spill," I explained to her, and
she accepted the bit willingly. She was always ready for action and
fully dependable.

Blowing out my lantern I hung it on a peg, led Kit from her stall out
into the night, and swung to the saddle. She made off with a spattering
rush through the yard, out into the road. It was dark as pitch but I was
fully awake now. The dash of the rain in my face had cleared my brain
but I trusted to the keener senses of the mare to find the road which
showed only in the strips of water which filled the wagon tracks.

We made way slowly for a few minutes until my eyes expanded to take in
the faint lines of light along the lane. The road at last became a river
of ink running between faint gray banks of sward, and my heart rose in
confidence. I took on dignity. I was a courier riding through the night
to save a city, a messenger on whose courage and skill thousands of
lives depended.

"Get out o' this!" I shouted to Kit, and she leaped away like a wolf, at
a tearing gallop.

She knew her rider. We had herded the cattle many days on the prairie,
and in races with the wild colts I had tested her speed. Snorting with
vigor at every leap she seemed to say, "My heart is brave, my limbs are
strong. Call on me."

Out of the darkness John Martin's Carlo barked. A half-mile had passed.
Old Marsh's fox hound clamored next. Two miles were gone. From here the
road ran diagonally across the prairie, a velvet-black band on the dim
sod. The ground was firmer but there were swales full of water. Through
these Kittie dashed with unhesitating confidence, the water flying from
her drumming hooves. Once she went to her knees and almost unseated me,
but I regained my saddle and shouted, "Go on, Kit."

The fourth mile was in the mud, but the fifth brought us to the village
turnpike and the mare was as glad of it as I. Her breath was labored
now. She snorted