oy mumbled and sputtered but rolled out and put a husky
shoulder to the wheel, and we went on our way rejoicing. He won our
respect at the buffalo farm for he soon discovered the germ that was
killing our charges, and he prepared a serum with which we vaccinated
the entire herd."

"Wow!" Colonel White exclaimed. "I think I'd rather fight Moros than
vaccinate buffalo." He, too, had spent years in foreign warfare; his
experiences are graphically told in _Bullets and Bolos_.

While we heard about the buffalo, one of the rangers left the room. He
came back presently, and White Mountain said to me: "Don't you want to
see your Christmas present?"

I looked across at my proud new riding-boots, with their fancy
stitching, and funny high heels just like those the rangers wore. "I'm
crazy about them," I said.

But the whole bunch were laughing. White Mountain led me to the door,
and there I had my first glimpse of Tar Baby! He was a four-year-old
horse that had spent those years running wild on the range. A few months
before he had been captured and partly tamed. But he was hard-mouthed,
and stiff-necked and hell-bent on having his own way about things. I
didn't know all that when I saw him this Christmas Day. To me he was
perfect. He was round and fat, shiny black, with a white star in his
forehead, and four white feet. One eye was blue, and the other one the
nicest, softest, kindest brown! He was just that kind of a Dr. Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde horse, too! He was fitted out with a new saddle, a gaudy
Navajo saddle blanket, and a bridle with silver inlaid fittings. The
spade bit was necessary. I found that out later, also.

I would have stood there speechless with admiration the rest of the day,
but the others reminded me it was time to light the big tree we had
planned for the children in the Park.

The rangers had brought a slender fir into the Information Room and we
had it trimmed within an inch of its life. Cranberries and popcorn ropes
festooned its branches, and again Montgomery Ward and Company's
catalogue had been searched for treasures to load it with. Every child
in the Park, regardless of race or color, was remembered. Little brown
brothers, whose Filipino mothers worked in the laundry, found themselves
possessors of strange toys; Navajo babies and Hopi cupids from the Hopi
House were well supplied. One small Hopi lass wailed loudly at the look
of the flaxen-haired doll that fell to her lot. She was afraid to hold