“You got to give us fifty yards start,” declared Conny, leaning forward in his saddle and shortening his reins.

“If I win, you boys go straight to bed to-night, when it’s time, without fussing,” said Kitty, “and I’ll give you to that oak bush yonder.”

“Good enough!  You’re on!” they shouted in chorus, and loped away.

As they passed the handicap mark, another shrill, defiant yell came floating back to where Kitty sat reining in her impatient Midnight.  At the signal, the two ponies leaped from a lope into a full run, while Kitty loosed the restraining rein and the black horse stretched away in pursuit.  Spurs ring, shouting, entreating, the two lads urged their sturdy mounts toward the goal, and the pintos answered gamely with all that they had.  Over knolls and washes, across arroyos and gullies they flew, sure-footed and eager, neck and neck, while behind them, drawing nearer and nearer, came the black, with body low, head outstretched and limbs that moved apparently with the timed regularity and driving power of a locomotive’s piston rod.  As she passed them, Kitty shouted a merry “Come on!” which they answered with redoubled exertion and another yell of hearty boyish admiration for the victorious Midnight and his beautiful rider.

“Doggone that black streak!” exclaimed Jimmy, his eyes dancing with fun as they pulled up at the corral gate.

“He opens and shuts like a blamed ol’ jack rabbit,” commented Conny.  “Seemed like we was just a-sittin’ still watchin’ you go by.”

Kitty laughed, teasingly, and unconsciously slipped into the vernacular as she returned, “Did you kids think you were a-horseback?”

“You just wait, Miss,” retorted the grinning Jimmy, as he opened the big gate.  “I’ll get a horse some day that’ll run circles around that ol’ black scound’el.”

And then, as they dismounted at the door of the saddle room in the big barn, he added generously, “You scoot on up to the house, Kitty; I’ll take care of Midnight.  It must be gettin’ near supper time, an’ I’m hungry enough to eat a raw dog.”

At which alarming statement Kitty promptly scooted, stopping only long enough at the windmill pump for a cool, refreshing drink.

Mrs. Reid, with sturdy little Jack helping, was already busy in the kitchen.  She was a motherly woman, rather below Kitty’s height, and inclined somewhat to a comfortable stoutness.  In her face was the gentle strength and patience of those whose years have been spent in home-making, without the hardness that is sometimes seen in the faces of those whose love is not great enough to soften their tail.  One knew by the light in her eyes whenever she spoke of Kitty, or, indeed, whenever the girl’s name was mentioned, how large a place her only daughter held in her mother heart.