Grace Harlowes Overland Riders on the Great American Desert | Page 9

over towards the guide, who was readjusting the cinch- girth
on the little animal.
"Quiet as a kitten after finding a nest of young mice. Better put your
revolver in the saddle holster where it will be handy. That's where I
carry mine. The lieutenant is stowing his now. Never know when the

'hardware' is going to come in handy on the desert."
A lump of sugar found its way into the black bronco's mouth from
Grace Harlowe's hand, as she petted and talked to the little fellow. This
time his ears were tilted forward, and he stood motionless while his
new master was caressing him. The instant Grace stepped away,
however, the black grew restless. He dragged the cowboy who was
holding him and threatened to break away, nor was he quieted until
Grace herself intervened and, slipping the bridle rein over her arm and
leading the pony, walked over to Tom Gray.
"No wonder you are successful in managing a husband," observed Tom.
"Even the dumb animals bow to your will."
"Now, Tom," protested Grace laughingly, the color mounting to her
cheeks. "That wasn't a bit nice of you."
"Ready whenever you are, Mrs. Gray," interrupted the voice of Hi
Lang.
Grace turned to her husband, the laughter gone from her face.
"I shall miss you, Tom dear. Write to Yvonne as often as you can, and
to me, but Yvonne needs our letters to keep her from getting lonely at
school. Good-bye and the best of luck, as we used to say when we were
in France."
Grace patted the neck of the black bronco, and Tom assisted her to the
saddle. Blackie began to prance, but, though he threatened to buck, he
did not. Grace finally subdued him and sat waiting for her companions
to mount, all of whom managed the operation successfully, though
Emma Dean was twice nearly unhorsed.
The cowboys, as the Overland girls observed, were saddled up as if
they too were going along, but she supposed they were starting out on
some duty connected with their work. All but two of them mounted,
and there followed an exhibition of prancing and bucking that furnished
amusement and interest to Grace and her friends.

Bud and a companion finally rode up before Grace and dismounted, the
former removing his sombrero and approaching her awkwardly.
Glancing inquiringly at Mr. Lang, Grace saw that he was smiling.
"Bud has something on his mind. I reckon he wants to unload, Mrs.
Gray," announced the guide.
"Yes, Bud?" smiled Grace encouragingly. "What is it?"
"It's yourself, Miss. The bunch here reckoned as I, bein' gifted with the
knack of gab, it fer me to speak for 'em. They're tongue- tied when
there's a woman on the premises."
"What is it the 'bunch' wishes you to say to me?" asked the Overland
girl.
"They seen you bust the black bronc' this morning, and bein' as no
female woman ever pulled off a stunt like it in these parts, they
reckoned it might not make you mad if they told you you was all to the
good."
"Thank you--thank you all." Grace waved a hand and smiled at the
eager faces of the cowboys who, lined up on their ponies, just to the
rear of Bud and a companion, were eagerly hanging on Bud's words,
but not taking their gaze from Grace Harlowe's face for an instant.
"The bunch reckoned, too, that bein' a champeen mebby you'd take a
little present from 'em. I ain't much on spreadin' the dough, even if I
have some gab," added Bud, floundering for the rest of his speech.
"Bud, I'm just as excited as you are, and, were I in your place, I should
not know what to say next," comforted Grace seriously. "What is it that
the 'bunch' wished you to give to me?"
Bud reached a hand behind him, whereupon his companion placed
something in it. Emma Dean whispered to Nora that it looked like a
blacksnake all coiled up and ready to jump.

"This here," resumed the cowboy, holding up the coil that had been
passed to him, "is a real Mexican lariat, made by a Greaser, but real
horsehair, and warranted not to kink or to miss in the hands of a lady.
The bunch reckons they'd like to give it to you to remember 'em by,"
concluded Bud, stepping forward and handing the lariat to Grace.
"Bud--boys, I don't need anything to make me remember you, but of
course I will accept your thoughtful gift. I never threw a rope and could
not hit the side of a barn with one, but now that you have given me this
beautiful piece of rope I am going to learn to throw it. Mr. Lang, will
you teach me how to rope--to throw