hullabaloo which suddenly arises far down the East Pike. The people
gathered upon the porch at the store prick up their ears to listen. There
are a dozen or more there upon one errand or another, for the store is
the commercial center of the district, and from it can be bought or
ordered every nameable thing under the sun. It is also the postoffice,
so, once, at least, each day there wends his or her way to it, every
human being who expects, hopes for, or by any chance may receive a
letter.

It was mail time. Hence the number of people gathered about to prick up
their ears as the racket down the road grew louder and louder each
second, and the thud of horses' hoofs, the shouts of boys' voices and a
girl's ringing laugh were borne to them.

"Yonder comes the Woodbine bunch, I'll bet a dollar, and they're sure
enough a-hittin' it up, too. Reckon that young one of the old Admiral's
is a-settin' the pace, too. She's a clipper, all right," commented a man
seated upon a tilted-back chair, his hat pushed far back upon his shock
head. He was guiltless of coat, and his jean trousers were hitched high
about his waist by a pair of wool suspenders.

Hardly had he ceased speaking when three horses came pounding into view,
the leader ridden by a girl about fifteen years of age. The animal was a
little mouse-colored beastie with white markings and eyes which gave a
pretty strong hint of a good bit of broncho disposition to which the
markings also pointed. He was lithe and agile as a cat and moved with
something of the sinuous gliding of that animal, rather than the bounding
motions of his eastern-bred mates. The two horses running neck and neck
behind him were evidently blooded animals, and all three were a-lather
from the pace set by their leader, all mud-bespattered to the point of
being wholly disreputable, for a shower the previous night had left many
a wide puddle in the road.

The girl leading rode as only a southern girl, accustomed to a saddle all
her life, can ride. The saddle was of the Mexican type, but the headstall
was the lightest possible, with a simple snaffle bit, even that seeming
almost superfluous for she guided her mount more by the motions of her
body than the bridle. She held the reins at arm's length in her left
hand, while with her right she waved above her head a soft felt hat, her
banner of defiance and derision of her pursuers. Swaying ever so slightly
in her saddle, she brought her wiry little mount up