"Very well, go ahead. You won't be satisfied until you have tried
him, but remember, I warned you," returned Grace's husband with
some heat.

"Now, Tom," begged Grace pleadingly. "Please don't be a cross bear
and spoil my trip. You have been so perfectly lovely about it
right up to this moment, that it would be too bad if you were to
get peevish now. If you say I must not, of course I will not try
to ride the animal, but I do so want him."

Tom Gray shrugged his shoulders and laughed.

"Go to it, little woman. You have my full permission to break your
neck if you insist. I will see that little Yvonne keeps your
memory green."

"Oh, Tom! You are such a dear, but I promise you that you won't
have occasion to keep my memory green so far as that mischievous
little black pony is concerned."

Grace Harlowe's confidence in herself was not without good and
sufficient reason. The western pony that she had ridden the
previous winter had demonstrated nearly all the tricks known to
the stubborn broncos of the great west. At first Grace had had
some bad spills, but eventually she learned to outwit her pony and
ride him no matter how savagely he tried to unhorse her.

Not only had Grace learned to ride, in anticipation of another
summer in the saddle, but, under her husband's instruction, she
had taken up revolver shooting, and by spring was capable of