The next morning Virginia breakfasted at sunrise with her brother. Margaret, who was not accustomed to awakening at so early an hour, slept until she heard voices outside her window. Upon seeing Virginia and Malcolm walking toward the corral, she sprang up and dressed hastily.
The brother and sister were on the way to a fenced-in hollow, where a wiry desert grass grew abundantly, and where several ponies were quietly feeding.
“Which of the horses shall we give to Margaret for her very own?” Virginia asked as she leaned on a top rail and looked about.
“Can Margaret ride well?” Malcolm inquired.
“Oh, I am sure that she can,” Virginia replied, “because she belonged to an equestrian class at the fashionable boarding school that she attended and they went every Saturday for an afternoon canter.”
Malcolm looked a bit doubtful.
“Those Eastern horses are not like our little wild ponies,” he said. “Perhaps we ought to start Margaret with Tags.”
Virginia laughingly protested.
“Oh, brother, I wouldn’t ask Megsy to ride that stupid old horse. I am sure that Margaret could ride, well, say Star. I have ridden him several times, and next to my Comrade I think he is the prettiest pony that we have on the ranch.”
Just at that moment the brother and sister heard a merry hallooing, and, turning, they saw Margaret skipping toward them.
“Virginia,” she exclaimed reproachfully as she came up, quite out of breath, “why didn’t you waken me? I want always to get up when you do.”
“But it was before sunrise, and I know that you are not used to being up so early,” the other girl replied as she slipped an arm about the newcomer, who said enthusiastically:
“Oh Virg, what a pretty horse that red-brown one is. It looked up and neighed just as though it were trying to say ‘Good morning!’”
Virginia was about to explain that the graceful, alert little horse to which Margaret referred was her own dear Comrade that had been given her by her father when it was a colt, but, before she could speak, she heard Malcolm saying: “Sister and I were looking over the mounts just now trying to decide which one we would give to you for your very own.”
His ward turned toward him with eyes that glowed. “Oh, how kind you both are,” she exclaimed, appreciatively. “I would just love to have a pony all for my very own. May I choose any one that I wish?”
The eager glance was questioning Virginia, and unhesitatingly that maiden smiling replied, “Yes, indeed, you may Megsy.”
For a minute Margaret’s glance swept the pasture.
“I just love that red-brown pony,” she said at last, “It reminds me of the one I had when I was a little girl.” Then as a sudden thought came to her, she added, “but which is the one that you ride, Virg?”
The Western girl unhesitatingly replied: “I ride Star sometimes, the black and white wiry little fellow with the dark star on his forehead. You may have Comrade, if you like him best, to be your very own.”
Malcolm, knowing how dearly his sister loved the pony that their father had given to her, was about to protest, but Virginia motioned him to be silent, then aloud she added, “Brother, will you ask Slim to bring the two ponies to the ranch house at nine? I want to return Grandmother Slater’s bombazine dress, and I am sure that Margaret will enjoy a ride across the desert.”
Then arm in arm the two girls returned to the ranch house while the lad saddled his lively young broncho and rode away, waving his sombrero when they turned at the porch steps to watch him.
“Now shall I unpack my trunk?” Margaret smiled up happily. “I must find my riding habit.”
As she unpacked, Megsy kept watching for the kodak picture of Babs and her brother, Peyton, which she believed that she had tucked in somewhere but it was not discovered. “Well, it really doesn’t matter in the least,” the girl declared, as she smiled up at Virginia who sat on the ledge of the bed watching her. “I have a darling picture of Babs and we do not care what Peyton looks like.”
Then diving into the depths of her trunk, she brought out a book filled with kodak pictures, and sitting beside her friend, Margaret turned the pages and told the story of each one. They were so interested that they had quite forgotten the hour until Virginia heard the galloping of horses’ feet, and springing up, she exclaimed, “Why, Megsy, it is 9 o’clock and we aren’t ready for our ride.” Then she called out of the open window, “Thank you, Slim, for bringing up the horses. You may leave them there. We’ll be out in short order.” Then turning to Margaret, she added, “What are you going to wear, Megsy?”
The Eastern girl laughingly held up a black broadcloth riding habit with a long tailored coat and a stiff black derby. “This doesn’t look much like a cowgirl costume,” she said gaily. “How I do wish I had a khaki suit like yours.”
“So you shall have as soon as we can get to town, but today you may wear my extra one. I always keep two in readiness least a mishap befall one of them. I’ll get it in a twinkling.”
Half an hour later the girls were starting on their ride across the desert and toward the Slater Ranch. Margaret, in her cowgirl costume, made a very pretty picture. “How I wish Babs could see me now!” she said as the two girls, after a canter side by side, drew rein to go single file down the steep trail leading across Silver Creek which at that time of the year was dry and pebbly.
Virginia glanced anxiously at Comrade for that pony seemed restive and ill content. “Was it because of the strangeness of the rider?” the girl wondered. She was about to suggest that Margaret hold the rein loosely when the level desert was again reached, but at that moment a sudden whirlwind swept toward them and they were engulfed in blinding sand.
Margaret, terrorized by this new and unexpected experience, dragged frantically on the rein. Instantly Comrade reared, and then, dropping again to all fours, he galloped madly ahead at a pace so rapid that Virginia, though she urged Star to his top-most speed, could not overtake him.
Margaret knew that her only safety lay in clinging to the horse’s neck and this she did, dropping the rein which flapping in Comrade’s face greatly increased his fright. Although Virginia’s pony strained every muscle, he could not overtake the fright-maddened Comrade. Now and then pausing to snort and rear, again plunging blindly ahead, the red-brown pony suddenly veered and made straight for the mountains. There was a new terror in the heart of Virginia and she greatly feared for the safety of her friend, for the mountain trail was rough and the Eastern girl would surely be thrown against the jagged rocks.
Then, to add to Virginia’s dismay, a second whirlwind swept across the desert. She saw it coming and just in time, she wheeled Star about that the sand might not be hurled in their faces. When the air was again clear Comrade and his rider were nowhere to be seen.
What had happened, Virginia wondered, sad at heart. Surely they could not have reached the mountain trail as yet. Of course the rider might have been thrown, but the horse, too, had disappeared.
Again urging Star to his top speed, Virginia soon neared the spot where she had last seen Comrade. There she drew rein and looked about.
“Margaret! Margaret!” she called. “Where are you?” But there was no reply.
With a half sob Virginia turned her horse’s head, planning to ride to the Slater Ranch for help, when she heard a faint moan. It seemed to come from a thorny tangle of bushes that surrounded a deep waterhole. For one terrorized moment Virginia thought that her friend might have been hurled into this stagnant well of the desert. Dismounting she ran to the spot, but, to her great relief, Margaret, although she was lying on the sand, had not been thrown into the pit.
Kneeling by the side of her friend, who was pale and motionless, Virginia pleaded: “Megsy, Megsy, darling. Open your eyes and speak to me. Are you hurt?” But there was no response.
“Oh, why did I permit her to ride Comrade?” Virginia rebuked herself, as she held the limp girl in her arms and tried to revive her by rubbing her hands and forehead, but still there was no sign of life. Rising, she went to the edge of the well, but the little water that was in it was covered with a green scum. What could she do? If only she could send to Slater’s for help, but she must not go herself and leave Margaret alone. She would have to send Star. It was their one hope. Going to the waiting pony, Virginia tied her bright red hair ribbon on the saddle horn and started him in the direction of the nearest ranch, but to her despair, she saw the pony wander toward a clump of wiry grass and stop to graze.
At that moment, although Virginia had no way of knowing it, help was not far away.
It seemed hours to Virginia, but in reality not many minutes had passed when she heard a galloping of what seemed like the feet of many horses. Leaping from the sand where she had been kneeling beside Margaret the girl stood waiting for she knew not what. The sound came from beyond a small sand hill. It might be a stampede of little wild burros, she thought, but how she did hope that this surmise was wrong, as indeed it was, for in another moment three horses appeared and the one in the lead was ridden by the Slater cow-boy known as “Slick Cy.” Meekly following were the now quieted Comrade and Star.
Virginia scarcely knowing what she did in her great joy and relief, ran to meet the cow-boy with arms outstretched. “Oh, Cy! Cy!” she half sobbed, “I’m so glad you have come. Margaret has been thrown and she lies as still as though she were dead, and yet I know that she isn’t, for her heart is beating, but I can’t revive her. I’ll never go anywhere again without my canteen. Cy, what shall we do?”
The bronzed, broad-shouldered cow-boy dismounted, and, looking kindly at the almost hysterical girl, he said comfortingly, “Ah reckon ah wouldn’t worry yet, Miss Virginia. If her heart’s a-goin’ ah reckon she’ll be all right.”
Taking a canteen from his saddle the cow-boy forced water between the lips of the girl while Virginia bathed her face, and soon to the joy of the watchers, Margaret opened her eyes. Then she reached out her hand to her friend as she said faintly, “It was all mv fault, Virginia, dear. I should have told you that I did not know how to ride, really. I had never been on a horse, except one that nothing could frighten, but you are such a fine horsewoman I thought you might think me a coward if I told you that I was really afraid to ride Comrade, but I’ll never ride him again, never, never, never.”
Virginia’s heart leaped with joy, for after all she would not have to give up the horse she so loved, the one her dear father had given her for her very, very own.
“Star is far more gentle,” she said, as she and Cy assisted Margaret to her feet, then remembering her manners, she added, “Margaret, permit me to introduce Slick Cy. He is one of Mr. Slater’s cow-boys.”
Impulsively Margaret held out her hand as she said graciously, “Thank you, Mr. Slick Cy, for coming to my rescue.”
The young giant of a cow-boy, being unused to girls, was very shy and he shifted from one foot to another as he said, “Miss Margaret, ah reckon as you’d better ride home with me on my horse.”
“Yes, do, Megsy,” Virginia urged. “It won’t be safe for you to even ride Star until you have had a few lessons.”
Margaret smiled at her friend as she remarked: “Now I have an adventure about which I can tell Babs in my very next letter.”