like a plow team. The wheels collected masses of adobe, which stuck like
glue and packed the spaces between the spokes. Twice Dick got out and
poked the heavy mess from the wheels with Sir Redmond's stick--which was
not good for the stick, but which eased the drag upon the horses
wonderfully--until the wheels accumulated another load.

"Sorry to dirty your cane," Dick apologized, after the second halt. "You
can rinse it off, though, in the creek a few miles ahead."

"Don't mention it!" said Sir Redmond, somewhat dubiously. It was his
favorite stick, and he had taken excellent care of it. It was finely
polished, and it had his name and regiment engraved upon the silver
knob--and a date which the Boers will not soon forget, nor the English,
for that matter.

"We'll soon be over the worst," Dick told them, after a time. "When we
climb that hill we'll have a hard, gravelly trail straight to the ranch.
I'm sorry it had to storm; I wanted you to enjoy this trip."

"I am enjoying it," Beatrice assured him. "It's something new, at any
rate, and anything is better than the deadly monotony of Newport."

"Beatrice!" cried her mother "I'm ashamed of you!"

"You needn't be, mama. Why won't you just be sorry for yourself, and let
it end there? I know you hated to come, poor dear; but you wouldn't
think of letting me come alone, though I'm sure I shouldn't have minded.
This is going to be a delicious summer--I feel it in my bones."

"Be-atrice!"