ffee steaming away over the bed of
coals, and saw the feast spread out informally on the ground, with
wild grape leaves for plates, she gave an exclamation of delight.

"Isn't it heavenly?" she cried.

Alec laughed. "I believe, Blue Bonnet, that your idea of heaven is to
live in a wickiup and subsist on mustang grapes and wild berries
indefinitely,--now isn't it?"

"Exactly--except that I'd add some of the bacon Knight is preparing to
give us. That's the way the cowboys cook it."

Knight had cut a dozen or more twigs having a forked branch at the
tip; on the end of each he placed a slice of bacon and then handed
around the "forks" ceremoniously. "I'm not going to offer you anything
so dainty as toasted moonshine," he explained, "but it's a heap more
substantial."

They all gathered gypsy-fashion about the fire, toasting the bacon and
their faces impartially; then transferring the crisp curly brown
strips to the big slices of bread, devoured them with exclamations of
approval that were most grateful to the arranger of the feast. Even
canned cream failed to detract from the flavor of the coffee, and they
consumed great quantities of the fragrant beverage, even Sarah
partaking most intemperately.

Only a lot of ponies inured to the hardships of the round-up would
have remained patient through the frolics of that day, and some of
these wiry ponies looked rather drooping when the picnickers turned
towards camp.

Mrs. Clyde, who had been watching the road rather anxiously as the
shadows began to lengthen, brightened at once when Blue Bonnet's
cheery call sounded through the trees.

"Oh, Grandmother, we've had the most gorgeous time in the world!" Blue
Bonnet cried, as she flung herself out of the saddle. "Did you ever
see such a beautifully mussed-up crowd in all your life?"

"If that is an evidence of a 'gorgeous time' you must certainly have
had one," Mrs. Clyde smiled as her glance travelled from one rumpled
and spotted We are Seven to another.

"These are the only skirts we brought and mine is all spluttered up
with bacon," mourned Sarah.

"I think you will all have to go to bed while I wash them," the Senora
suggested laughingly.

"Grandmother, please don't let Sarah play upon your sympathies. She
doesn't appreciate how becoming a little dirt is to her peculiar style
of beauty. She looks almost--human." The look of pained surprise Sarah
turned on her sent Blue Bonnet off in a fit of merriment. "Oh, for a