ustfully on the spirited little horse
Genevieve was petting.

"Oh, but I don't believe they'll have time to hunt up horses for us,
Genevieve. Really, I don't think we ought to ask them to."

"Maybe we won't, then--for _you_," teased Tilly, saucily. "We'll just
let them take time for ours."

It is a question, however, if that afternoon, even Tilly wanted to ride;
for, according to Cordelia's notes that night in "Things to do," they
saw a broncho "bursted."

It was Mr. Tim who had said at the dinner table that noon:

"If you young people happen to be on hand, say at about four o'clock,
you'll see something doing. Reddy's got a horse or two he's going to put
through their paces--and one of 'em's never been saddled."

Privately, to Mr. Hartley, Mrs. Kennedy objected a little.

"Are you sure, Mr. Hartley, the girls ought to witness such a sight?"
she asked uneasily. "Of course I don't want to be too strict in my
demands," she went on with a little twinkle in her eyes that Mr. Hartley
thoroughly understood. "I realize the West isn't the East. But, will
this be--all right?"

"I think it will--even in your judgment," he assured her. "It's no
professional broncho-buster that they'll see to-day. I seldom hire them,
anyway, as I prefer to have our own men break in the horses--specially
as we're lucky enough to have three or four mighty skillful ones right
in our own outfit. There'll be nothing brutal or rough to-day, Mrs.
Kennedy. Only one beast is entirely wild, and he's not really vicious,
Reddy says. Genevieve tells me the girls have heard a lot about
broncho-busting, and that they're wild to see it. They wouldn't think
they'd been to Texas, I'm afraid, if they didn't see something of the
sort."

"Very well," agreed Mrs. Kennedy, with visible reluctance.

"Oh, of course," went on Mr. Hartley, his eyes twinkling, "you mustn't
expect that they'll see exactly a pony parade drawing baby carriages
down Beacon Street; but they will see some of the best horsemanship that
the state of Texas can show. I take it you never saw a little beast
whose chief aim in life was to get clear of his rider--eh, Mrs.
Kennedy?"

"No, I never did," shuddered the lady; "and I'm not sure that I'd want
to," she finished decisively, as she turned away.

The new horse proved to be a fiery little bay mustang, and the fight
began from the first moment that the noose settled about his untamed
little neck. As Tilly told of the affair in the Chroni