harness. "Uncle Zack, please come here at once; these poor horses are
nearly dead," she called quickly. "Some one will have to help me. I am
afraid I can't look after them both, for they can scarcely stand up."
But Uncle Zack, the old colored servant of the ranch house, was not
within sound of Jack's voice and the girls were too much interested in
the gypsies to heed her.

The old horses had great sagging places under their hips; the muscles
beneath their worn coats quivered and jerked with fatigue; their eyes
were bloodshot and their breath came in long, quivering sighs.

Jacqueline Ralston was a ranch girl who had been brought up to love
horses since she was a tiny baby, and she cared for them so intensely
that nothing stirred her like the sight of them ill used. Now, heedless
of all else, she softly patted and talked to the two horses, lifting off
a part of their ragged harness; then suddenly turning, discovered their
gypsy driver calmly eating a comfortable dinner. Jack's eyes flashed and
the hot blood surged to her cheeks.

"Come see to your horses," she ordered sharply. "What do you mean by
resting and eating while your horses suffer? Even a tenderfoot knows
better than to be so stupid and good for nothing. I thought a gypsy had
more sense." The young girl turned away her flushed face as she finished
speaking, for a lump was rising in her throat, and she had seen the
gypsy man get up from the table and start over toward her with his
guitar swung jauntily over his shoulder and a supercilious smile on his
lips.

"Don't worry about my horses, young lady," he remarked indifferently.
"If they were worth anything I would look after them better, but they
are worn-out old brutes and won't be fit for use much longer." Without
any excuse the man gave the nearer horse a brutal kick that made it
stagger with pain, and struck the other with the palm of his hand.

"By the way," he remarked, "I'm not a gypsy, as you suppose, though I
happen to be married to one and running this particular outfit."

Jack saw everything spin around for half a second--she was so angry with
the man for his cruelty--but she managed to speak with dignity. "If you
do another unkind thing to your horses I shall ask our overseer, Jim
Colter, to make you leave our ranch," she declared firmly. "Of course I
see, now you are nearer, that you are not a gypsy." Jack frowned,
puzzled by the tramp's unusual appearance. His hair was light brown, his
eyes