Joy's horse
lumber up a heavy grade. "I think it's a shame, Tommy Sharpe, to let
an old horse like that carry a load."

"I do sort of feel sorry for that horse, Dolly," drawled Kit. "Joy is
such a heavy-weight that Dolly just has to puff. Why, she tips the
scales at ninety-two pounds."

Everybody laughed and Tommy drew in his horse and waited until Joy came
abreast on a level stretch. Then he reached over and dug into the
horse's side.

Dolly leaped forward as Joy gave a cry of fright, but this only lasted
for a moment. Dolly's speed was soon over and she settled back into
her usually lazy pace.

"That horse is a cheat. If I were riding her she'd step along lively
without urging. But she has a lot of sense and knows who is on her
back," laughed Kit, offering Joy her quirt, which she carried only
because it looked pretty. Powder never needed a quirt.

"Dolly isn't so very old. She's lazy!" said Tommy.

"Don't say that, Tommy. She isn't lazy, she was born tired," reproved
Bet.

Joy refused the quirt. "Oh, I just couldn't use a whip, Kit. I just
couldn't. Dolly's a nice horse and I wouldn't think of hurting her. I
think you people are terribly hard-hearted and cruel." And as if Dolly
understood just what was being said, she made for the shade of a large
tree and stood still, and no amount of coaxing on Joy's part would make
her budge.

"She won't do as I tell her, at all," pouted Joy.

"Then maybe you'll accept a quirt now and say 'thank you'," and Kit
extended the quirt once more.

"I hate to use it," Joy looked bewildered, but the others were going on
and would soon be far ahead. She brought the braided leather down on
the side of the horse. Dolly sprang into action, galloped for a few
minutes, then settled down to a jog trot. But by this time Joy was
getting impatient. Again and again the quirt descended, and for a full
minute at a time the horse trotted.

"Why you cruel, hard-hearted girl!" Bet shouted over her shoulder.
"How can you bear to hit that gentle creature?"

Joy wrinkled up her nose at Bet and motioned her to go on.

"Keep up the good work," called Tommy Sharpe. "We'll never get over to
Sombrero Butte to-day, if you let Dolly set the pace. I wish I had
given you Oso. That's a mean little imp of a burro. But at that I
believe he'd have gone faster than Dolly."

"Oh, Tommy, I'd love to ride a burro. Will you let me, truly?" begged
Joy.

"And so do I want to ride a b