" Mr. Linton said. "I told him to see to
them--but he ought to be back. I hope they're all right. Well, you get
dressed, Norah."

By the time Norah's toilet was completed the fish, under Mr. Linton's
supervision, were in the pan, and she hurried to set out the breakfast
things. They were just beginning breakfast when the sound of hoofs was
heard and Billy rode into the clearing on his own pony, with evident
signs of perturbation on his ebony face.

"What's up, Billy?" Mr. Linton asked sharply.

"That feller pack-mare," Billy said briefly. "Broken hobbles--clear out.
Plenty!" He produced a hobble as he spoke, the broken leather telling
its own tale.

Mr. Linton uttered an exclamation of anger.

"That comes of not seeing to the hobbles myself," he said sharply. "No
sign of her?"

Billy shook his head.

"Not likely," Mr. Linton said; "that old mare would make for home like a
shot. I dare say she's half-way there by now. Well, Billy, there's only
one thing to do--get your pony saddled and go after her."

Billy's face expressed unuttered depths of woe.

"Get your breakfast first," said his master; "there's no particular
hurry, for you're bound to have to go all the way home--and bring some
good hobbles back with you, if you do!"

Billy slid to the ground.

"Plenty!" he said ruefully.

Billy, a black vision of despondency, had faded away into the distance,
making his chestnut pony pay for the disappointment of his long ride
back to the homestead for the missing mare. Norah and her father had
"cleaned up house," as Norah put it, and again they were sitting on the
old log that spanned the creek.

Their lines were in water, but the fish were shy. The promise of a hot
day had driven them to the shady hollows under the banks. The juiciest
worms failed to lure them from their hiding-places. Norah thought it
dull and said so.

Her father laughed.

"You'll never make a fisherman without cultivating an extra stock of
patience," he said. "The thought of last night's luck ought to make you
happy."

"Well, it doesn't," his daughter answered decidedly. "That was
yesterday, and this is to-day; and it is dull, Daddy, anyhow."

"Well, keep on hoping," said Mr. Linton; "luck may change at any minute.
Norah, do you know, I have something to tell you?"

"What?" Norah's dullness was gone. There was something unusual in her
father's tone.

"I'm afraid you won't think it the best news," he said, smiling at her
eager face