"Hi, Stella!" shouted Kit. "Where you goin'?"
But she was already out of hearing.
"Let her go," said Ted. "She's got one of her crazy riding spells on,
and she'll just have to ride it out of her."
In a few minutes she was a speck on the horizon.
"That girl can ride some," said Kit, looking regretfully after her. Kit
could "ride some" himself, and this afternoon he just felt like a good
breeze across the turf, and no one suited him for a riding companion
like Stella, for she was so fearless and bold, and never balked at a
chance.
But Stella was gone, and the drive settled down to a steady thing.
We will leave the herd for the present to follow the fortunes of Stella,
whose ride that afternoon had so much to do with fashioning the
immediate fortunes of Ted Strong and the broncho boys.
As Stella was borne exultingly along through the clear, sharp air of the
Montana uplands, she was singing in a high, sweet voice the cowboy song,
"The Wolf Hunt."
"Over the hills on a winter's morn,
In the rosy glow of a day just born,
With the eager hounds so fleet and strong,
On the gray wolf's track we jog along."
As she paused at the end of the first verse she thought she heard an
echo of it. It seemed that off to the north somewhere she had heard an
eerie "Ai-i-e!" But she listened attentively, bringing Magpie to a stop,
and hearing it no more, concluded that she had been mistaken.
Pages:
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299