silver-white and cool at the foot of the hill beneath us. Joe saw the
glance.

[Illustration: WE GOT ON FAMOUSLY WITH THE PLOWING (Page 150)]

"Hol' on, honey," he exclaimed, as I was about starting the team
again. "Dere's de lines looped up on the back band; I'll jess run
'em out an' finish up dish yer bit alone."

"Do you think you can?" I asked, wavering between a longing to rest
and my sense of duty.

"T'ink I kin? Dat's good, now! Yo' run along down to de ribber an' hab
a good paddle afore hit gits too late."

Accordingly I slid off of Frank's back while Joe, gathering in the
slack of the lines, clucked encouragingly to him to go on. Instead of
doing that the horse wheeled around in the furrow until he had brought
my retreating figure into view, then stopped and gazed inquiringly
after me.

"Joe," I called back, halting, "maybe I'd better not leave."

"Yo' jess run right erlong, Miss Leslie, honey; dis hoss gwine ter go
all right jess soon's he make up he mine whar yo' is gwine."

Glancing back again presently, I found that Joe was right. Frank was
working with promising sedateness.

It was deliciously cool down underneath the shadow of the cliff, on
the banks of the shallow, bright river. Guard had followed me from the
field; he, too, enjoyed the cool water and proceeded to make the most
of it. After I had bathed my hot face and hands I sat on the bank and
watched him as he splashed about, making sudden, futile darts at the
tiny fish that swarmed around him when he was quiet, and went
scurrying away like chaff before the wind, the instant that he moved.
I had just risen to my feet, intending to start to the house, when
Guard suddenly sprang out of the water with a growl. At the same
instant the direful squawking of a frightened chicken broke on my
ears. The squawking, close at hand at first, receded rapidly.
Evidently some animal had caught one of our flock of poultry and was
making off with its prize.

There was a wildness of rocks and gnarled cedar trees on the steep
mountain slope above us, just beyond the bend in the river, and toward
this wild quarter, judging by the outcries--fast lessening in the
distance--the animal, whatever it might be, was bearing its prey. I
was drenched with a shower of water drops as Guard shot past me,
taking the trail with an eager yelp, while I, no less eager, and with
as little reflection, ran after him. The dog had cleared the
underbrush on the river bank, as I ru