CHOOSING A PONY
The next morning Virginia breakfasted at sunrise with her brother.
Margaret, who was not accustomed to awakening at so early an hour,
slept until she heard voices outside her window. Upon seeing
Virginia and Malcolm walking toward the corral, she sprang up and
dressed hastily.
The brother and sister were on the way to a fenced-in hollow, where
a wiry desert grass grew abundantly, and where several ponies were
quietly feeding.
“Which of the horses shall we give to Margaret for her very own?”
Virginia asked as she leaned on a top rail and looked about.
“Can Margaret ride well?” Malcolm inquired.
“Oh, I am sure that she can,” Virginia replied, “because she
belonged to an equestrian class at the fashionable boarding school
that she attended and they went every Saturday for an afternoon
canter.”
Malcolm looked a bit doubtful.
“Those Eastern horses are not like our little wild ponies,” he said.
“Perhaps we ought to start Margaret with Tags.”
Virginia laughingly protested.
“Oh, brother, I wouldn’t ask Megsy to ride that stupid old horse. I
am sure that Margaret could ride, well, say Star. I have ridden him
several times, and next to my Comrade I think he is the prettiest
pony that we have on the ranch.”
Just at that moment the brother and sister heard a merry hallooing,
and, turning, they saw Margaret skipping toward them.
“Virginia,” she exclaimed reproachfully as she came up, quite out of
breath, “why didn’t you waken me? I want always to get up when you
do.”
“But it was before sunrise, and I know that you are not used to
being up so early,” the other girl replied as she slipped an arm
about the newcomer, who said enthusiastically:
“Oh Virg, what a pretty horse that red-brown one is. It looked up
and neighed just as though it were trying to say ‘Good morning!’”
Virginia was about to explain that the graceful, alert little horse
to which Margaret referred was her own dear Comrade that had been
given her by her father when it was a colt, but, before she could
speak, she heard Malcolm saying: “Sister and I were looking over the
mounts just now trying to decide which one we would give to you for
your very own.”
His ward turned toward him with eyes that glowed. “Oh, how kind you
both are,” she exclaimed, appreciatively. “I would just love to have
a pony all for my very own. May I choose any one that I wish?”
The eager glance was questioning Virginia, and unhesitatingly that
maiden smiling replied, “Yes, indeed, you may Megsy.”
For a minute Margaret’s glance swept the pasture.
“I just love that red-brown pony,” she said at last, “It reminds me
of the one I had when I was a little girl.” Then as a sudden thought
came to her, she added, “but which is the one that you ride, Virg?”
The Western girl unhesitatingly replied: “I ride Star sometimes, the
black and white wiry little fellow with the dark star on his
forehead. You may have Comrade, if you like him best, to be your
very own.”
Malcolm, knowing how dearly his sister loved the pony that their
father had given to her, was about to protest, but Virginia motioned
him to be silent, then aloud she added, “Brother, will you ask Slim
to bring the two ponies to the ranch house at nine? I want to return
Grandmother Slater’s bombazine dress, and I am sure that Margaret
will enjoy a ride across the desert.”
Then arm in arm the two girls returned to the ranch house while the
lad saddled his lively young broncho and rode away, waving his
sombrero when they turned at the porch steps to watch him.
“Now shall I unpack my trunk?” Margaret smiled up happily. “I must
find my riding habit.”
As she unpacked, Megsy kept watching for the kodak picture of Babs
and her brother, Peyton, which she believed that she had tucked in
somewhere but it was not discovered. “Well, it really doesn’t matter
in the least,” the girl declared, as she smiled up at Virginia who
sat on the ledge of the bed watching her. “I have a darling picture
of Babs and we do not care what Peyton looks like.”
Then diving into the depths of her trunk, she brought out a book
filled with kodak pictures, and sitting beside her friend, Margaret
turned the pages and told the story of each one. They were so
interested that they had quite forgotten the hour until Virginia
heard the galloping of horses’ feet, and springing up, she
exclaimed, “Why, Megsy, it is 9 o’clock and we aren’t ready for our
ride.” Then she called out of the open window, “Thank you, Slim, for
bringing up the horses. You may leave them there. We’ll be out in
short order.” Then turning to Margaret, she added, “What are you
going to wear, Megsy?”
The Eastern girl laughingly held up a black broadcloth riding habit
with a long tailored coat and a stiff black derby. “This doesn’t
look much like a cowgirl costume,” she said gaily. “How I do wish I
had a khaki suit like yours.”
“So you shall have as soon as we can get to town, but today you may
wear my extra one. I always keep two in readiness least a mishap
befall one of them. I’ll get it in a twinkling.”
Half an hour later the girls were starting on their ride across the
desert and toward the Slater Ranch. Margaret, in her cowgirl
costume, made a very pretty picture. “How I wish Babs could see me
now!” she said as the two girls, after a canter side by side, drew
rein to go single file down the steep trail leading across Silver
Creek which at that time of the year was dry and pebbly.
Virginia glanced anxiously at Comrade for that pony seemed restive
and ill content. “Was it because of the strangeness of the rider?”
the girl wondered. She was about to suggest that Margaret hold the
rein loosely when the level desert was again reached, but at that
moment a sudden whirlwind swept toward them and they were engulfed
in blinding sand.
Margaret, terrorized by this new and unexpected experience, dragged
frantically on the rein. Instantly Comrade reared, and then,
dropping again to all fours, he galloped madly ahead at a pace so
rapid that Virginia, though she urged Star to his top-most speed,
could not overtake him.
Margaret knew that her only safety lay in clinging to the horse’s
neck and this she did, dropping the rein which flapping in Comrade’s
face greatly increased his fright. Although Virginia’s pony strained
every muscle, he could not overtake the fright-maddened Comrade. Now
and then pausing to snort and rear, again plunging blindly ahead,
the red-brown pony suddenly veered and made straight for the
mountains. There was a new terror in the heart of Virginia and she
greatly feared for the safety of her friend, for the mountain trail
was rough and the Eastern girl would surely be thrown against the
jagged rocks.
Then, to add to Virginia’s dismay, a second whirlwind swept across
the desert. She saw it coming and just in time, she wheeled Star
about that the sand might not be hurled in their faces. When the air
was again clear Comrade and his rider were nowhere to be seen.
What had happened, Virginia wondered, sad at heart. Surely they
could not have reached the mountain trail as yet. Of course the
rider might have been thrown, but the horse, too, had disappeared.
Again urging Star to his top speed, Virginia soon neared the spot
where she had last seen Comrade. There she drew rein and looked
about.
“Margaret! Margaret!” she called. “Where are you?” But there was no
reply.
With a half sob Virginia turned her horse’s head, planning to ride
to the Slater Ranch for help, when she heard a faint moan. It seemed
to come from a thorny tangle of bushes that surrounded a deep
waterhole. For one terrorized moment Virginia thought that her
friend might have been hurled into this stagnant well of the desert.
Dismounting she ran to the spot, but, to her great relief, Margaret,
although she was lying on the sand, had not been thrown into the
pit.
Kneeling by the side of her friend, who was pale and motionless,
Virginia pleaded: “Megsy, Megsy, darling. Open your eyes and speak
to me. Are you hurt?” But there was no response.
“Oh, why did I permit her to ride Comrade?” Virginia rebuked
herself, as she held the limp girl in her arms and tried to revive
her by rubbing her hands and forehead, but still there was no sign
of life. Rising, she went to the edge of the well, but the little
water that was in it was covered with a green scum. What could she
do? If only she could send to Slater’s for help, but she must not go
herself and leave Margaret alone. She would have to send Star. It
was their one hope. Going to the waiting pony, Virginia tied her
bright red hair ribbon on the saddle horn and started him in the
direction of the nearest ranch, but to her despair, she saw the pony
wander toward a clump of wiry grass and stop to graze.
At that moment, although Virginia had no way of knowing it, help was
not far away.
It seemed hours to Virginia, but in reality not many minutes had
passed when she heard a galloping of what seemed like the feet of
many horses. Leaping from the sand where she had been kneeling
beside Margaret the girl stood waiting for she knew not what. The
sound came from beyond a small sand hill. It might be a stampede of
little wild burros, she thought, but how she did hope that this
surmise was wrong, as indeed it was, for in another moment three
horses appeared and the one in the lead was ridden by the Slater
cow-boy known as “Slick Cy.” Meekly following were the now quieted
Comrade and Star.
Virginia scarcely knowing what she did in her great joy and relief,
ran to meet the cow-boy with arms outstretched. “Oh, Cy! Cy!” she
half sobbed, “I’m so glad you have come. Margaret has been thrown
and she lies as still as though she were dead, and yet I know that
she isn’t, for her heart is beating, but I can’t revive her. I’ll
never go anywhere again without my canteen. Cy, what shall we do?”
The bronzed, broad-shouldered cow-boy dismounted, and, looking
kindly at the almost hysterical girl, he said comfortingly, “Ah
reckon ah wouldn’t worry yet, Miss Virginia. If her heart’s a-goin’
ah reckon she’ll be all right.”
Taking a canteen from his saddle the cow-boy forced water between
the lips of the girl while Virginia bathed her face, and soon to the
joy of the watchers, Margaret opened her eyes. Then she reached out
her hand to her friend as she said faintly, “It was all mv fault,
Virginia, dear. I should have told you that I did not know how to
ride, really. I had never been on a horse, except one that nothing
could frighten, but you are such a fine horsewoman I thought you
might think me a coward if I told you that I was really afraid to
ride Comrade, but I’ll never ride him again, never, never, never.”
Virginia’s heart leaped with joy, for after all she would not have
to give up the horse she so loved, the one her dear father had given
her for her very, very own.
“Star is far more gentle,” she said, as she and Cy assisted Margaret
to her feet, then remembering her manners, she added, “Margaret,
permit me to introduce Slick Cy. He is one of Mr. Slater’s
cow-boys.”
Impulsively Margaret held out her hand as she said graciously,
“Thank you, Mr. Slick Cy, for coming to my rescue.”
The young giant of a cow-boy, being unused to girls, was very shy
and he shifted from one foot to another as he said, “Miss Margaret,
ah reckon as you’d better ride home with me on my horse.”
“Yes, do, Megsy,” Virginia urged. “It won’t be safe for you to even
ride Star until you have had a few lessons.”
Margaret smiled at her friend as she remarked: “Now I have an
adventure about which I can tell Babs in my very next letter.”