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Page 40
Hoping fervently that it was her own little spirited Blackie,
Grace urged her mount forward at a lively clip and bore down on
the bronco who began edging off when he saw her heading for him.
"It's Elfreda's pony!" cried Grace. "Here, boy; here, boy!" she
called.
The "lost" animal kicked up its heels and started away at a
gallop, with Grace Harlowe in full pursuit.
"How provoking!" cried Grace as the bronco kept galloping from her
with aggravating persistence. The Overland girl rode and coaxed
until she tired of it, then, touching her mount lightly with the
crop, she dashed straight for the tantalizing roamer.
It was a race for a little while, the runners steadily drawing
away from Hippy Wingate and Hi Lang, but to this Grace gave no
thought. Once she nearly got her hand on the bridle of Elfreda's
mount, but the little fellow dodged her at the critical moment.
"Oh, for a rope and the skill to throw it. I'll learn to throw a
lasso at once. I see it is necessary out here. Whoa, boy!" she
commanded sharply.
The runaway bronco stopped short, and, with feet spread apart,
stood gazing at her as if daring the Overland girl to come and
catch him. Grace decided to try new tactics. Dismounting, and
slipping her bridle rein over one arm, she walked slowly toward
the animal, plucking a bunch of sage as she went, and holding it
out toward him.
The pony looked interested, his ears sloped forward and he took a
step or two towards her. Grace walked up to him confidently, gave
him the handful of sage and, after petting him, grasped the lead
rope and then the bridle.
"All of which goes to prove the assertion that it is easier to
catch flies with molasses than with vinegar. Now be a good boy,
and we will jog back home to Elfreda," she soothed to the captured
pony.
Mounting, and attaching the end of the lead rope to the pommel of
her saddle, Grace started for camp. At least she thought that was
what she did. Instead she was headed for the range of mountains on
which they had first made camp. After a little the Overland Rider
came to a realization that the guide and Hippy were nowhere in
sight. Still, she was not greatly disturbed, but she was thirsty.
A few drops of water from her canteen was all that she dared allow
herself.
Grace had been traveling for the better part of an hour, from time
to time glancing up at the glaring sun that was just rising, when
she suddenly brought her pony up short.
"Do you think you can find the way back if I give you the rein?"
she asked, petting her mount.
The pony pawed the dirt and whinnied, but his rider knew that it
was because he too was thirsty, instead of being an answer to her
question.
Grace paused to reflect over her situation, to consider what was
the wise thing to do, finally deciding that she would follow her
trail back to the spot at which she captured the pony.
"From there it should be easy for me to find my original trail;
then all I shall have to do will be to follow it to the camp. We
must go back," decided Grace, turning about and starting away at a
trot, finding no difficulty in making out the tracks of the two
ponies.
The spot at which she had found the lost bronco was reached at
last. Grace sat for some moments, staring at the landscape,
turning in her saddle until she had looked all the way around the
compass, then, clucking to the two animals, trotted away,
following her original trail.
As she progressed, the trail grew fainter, a desert breeze having
almost obliterated the tracks her pony made on the way out with Hi
Lang and Hippy Wingate. To make certain that she was on the right
road, Grace got down and compared her mount's footprints with
those that she was following.
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