g a restraining hand upon the other.
"Whose beautiful colt is that?"

The Judge pulled down his horse and leaned far out over the side. "Why,
I don't know, dear!" he replied, after a moment, then turned his eyes to
the rear. "He must belong with some team in that crush."

The girl regarded the colt with increasing rapture. "Isn't he a perfect
dear!" she went on. "Look at him, daddy!" she suddenly urged,
delightedly. "He's dying to know why we stopped!" Which, indeed, the
colt looked to be, since he had come to a stop with the mare and now was
regarding them curiously. "I'd love to pet him!"

The Judge frowned. "We're late for luncheon," he declared, and again
gazed to the rear. "We'd better take him along with us out to the ranch.
To-morrow I'll advertise him in the papers." And he shook up the mare.
"We'd better go along, Helen."

"Just one minute, daddy!" persisted the girl, gathering up her white
skirts and, as the Judge pulled down, leaping lightly out of the
phaeton. "I've simply _got_ to pet him!" She cautiously approached
the colt.

He permitted her this approach. Nor did he shy at her outstretched hand.
Under her gentle caresses he stood very still, and when she stooped
before him, as she did presently, bringing her eyes upon a level with
his own, he gazed into them very frankly and earnestly, as if gauging
this person, as he had seemed to tabulate all other things, some day to
make good use of his knowledge. After a time the girl spoke.

"I wish I could keep you always," she said, poutingly. "You look so nice
and babyish!" But she knew that she could not keep him, and after a time
she stood up again and sighed, and fell to stroking him thoughtfully.
"I'll have you to-day, anyway," she declared, finally, with promise of
enjoyment in her voice, as one who meant to make the most of it. Then
she got back into the phaeton.

The Judge started up the horse again. They continued through the town,
and when on its northwestern outskirts turned to the right along a trail
that paralleled the river. The trail ran north and south, and on either
side of it, sometimes shielding a secluded ranch, always forming an
agreeable oasis in the flat brown of the country, rose an occasional
clump of cottonwoods. The ranch-houses were infrequent, however; all of
them were plentifully supplied with water by giant windmills which
clacked and creaked above the trees in the high-noon breeze. To the
left, across the river, back from t