ir legs. I'll see to Nat, and Dan is in a good way now. Let
him take a look at Kansas, and if the farm plan loses its charm, he
can fall back on poor Lo, and really do good out there. He's unusually
fitted for that peculiar task and I hope he'll decide to do it. Fighting
oppressors, and befriending the oppressed will keep those dangerous
energies of his busy, and the life will suit him better than sheep-folds
and wheat-fields.'

'I hope so. What is that?' and Mrs Jo leaned forward to listen, as
exclamations from Ted and Josie caught her ear.

'A mustang! a real, live one; and we can ride it. Dan, you are a
first-class trump!' cried the boy.

'A whole Indian dress for me! Now I can play Namioka, if the boys act
Metamora,' added Josie, clapping her hands.

'A buffalo's head for Bess! Good gracious, Dan, why did you bring such a
horrid thing as that to her?' asked Nan.

'Thought it would do her good to model something strong and natural.
She'll never amount to anything if she keeps on making namby-pamby gods
and pet kittens,' answered irreverent Dan, remembering that when he was
last here Bess was vibrating distractedly between a head of Apollo and
her Persian cat as models.

'Thank you; I'll try it, and if I fail we can put the buffalo up in the
hall to remind us of you,' said Bess, indignant at the insult offered
the gods of her idolatry, but too well bred to show it except in her
voice, which was as sweet and as cold as ice-cream.

'I suppose you won't come out to see our new settlement when the rest
do? Too rough for you?' asked Dan, trying to assume the deferential air
all the boys used when addressing their Princess.

'I am going to Rome to study for years. All the beauty and art of the
world is there, and a lifetime isn't long enough to enjoy it,' answered
Bess.

'Rome is a mouldy old tomb compared to the "Garden of the gods" and my
magnificent Rockies. I don't care a hang for art; nature is as much as I
can stand, and I guess I could show you things that would knock your old
masters higher than kites. Better come, and while Josie rides the horses
you can model 'em. If a drove of a hundred or so of wild ones can't show
you beauty, I'll give up,' cried Dan, waxing enthusiastic over the wild
grace and vigour which he could enjoy but had no power to describe.

'I'll come some day with papa, and see if they are better than the
horses of St Mark and those on Capitol Hill. Please don't abuse my gods,
and I wil