When the hour came for Texas and Pat and Abe to go,
and Barbara with shining eyes tried again to express
her gratitude while insisting that they must always
come to her home as to their own, the three felt that
indeed they had their reward. And when later the
girl kissed her father good night Jefferson Worth
also knew in his lonely heart that he had done well.
BARBARA COMES INTO HER OWN.
Jefferson Worth and his daughter had just finished
their first breakfast in the new home when their Indian
servant woman entered the room.
“What is it, Ynez?” asked Barbara, seeing
that the woman wished to speak.
Ynez’s black eyes were shining and her voice
was eager as she answered: “There is someone
without waiting for La Senorita.”
“Someone waiting outside for me, Ynez?”
“Who is it?” asked Mr. Worth.
“It is Pablo Garcia, Senor, and he say please
ask La Senorita to come. If La Senorita will
go only to the door she can see.”
With an expression of excited interest Barbara, followed
by her father, went out on the porch. In front
of the house stood Pablo holding a beautiful saddle
horse fully equipped and ready for a rider. The
Mexican’s dark face shone with the pride and
triumph of the moment toward which he had looked forward
for months. The horse, too, as if sensing the
importance of the occasion, pawed the earth with his
dainty hoofs, arched his neck and tossed his head—proudly
impatient.
Uttering low exclamations and little cries of delight
the girl left the porch and ran forward, greeting
Pablo and moving about the horse, admiring the animal
from every point of view. “What a beauty!
He is perfect, Pablo; perfect! Where did you find
him? Is he yours? What’s his name?”
Her questions came tumbling from her lips in such
eager bursts that Pablo answered only the last.
“He is yours, Senorita. His name El Capitan.”
“Mine?” Barbara turned to her father,
who explained, Abe having told him the night before
of the purchase.
When her father finished, the delighted girl announced
that she “simply couldn’t wait”
but must go for a ride immediately. Running into
the house she returned a few minutes later in her riding
dress and, mounting with—“I’ll
be back for dinner, daddy,” and “Adios,
Pablo!”—rode away toward the open
country, while the Mexican and the banker watched
her out of sight.
By the time they had passed the last of the tent houses
in the town Barbara and El Capitan were friends.
There is no doubt whatever that a worthy horse appreciates
a worthy rider and the girl, accustomed to riding
since childhood, certainly appreciated her mount.
“Oh, you beauty!” she cried, leaning forward
in the saddle to pat the shining neck. “Oh,
you beauty!”
As though to return the compliment and express his
pleasure at finding such an agreeable companion, El
Capitan turned his delicate pointed ears forward,
arched his neck, and, stepping as on a velvet carpet,
sprang lightly to the other side of the road in sheer
overflow of good spirits and confidence in his rider,
while the girl, at his play, laughed aloud.
