"And I asked Uncle John to lend me a horse, which meant three
horses of course--one mounted cowboy and a pack horse to accompany
me. No roads then. No automobiles. And the horse for myself! It
was Hilo. You don't remember him. You were away at school then,
and before you came home, the following year, he'd broken his back
and his rider's neck wild-cattle-roping up Mauna Kea. You heard
about it--that young American naval officer."

"Lieutenant Bowsfield," Martha nodded.

"But Hilo! I was the first woman on his back. He was a three-
year-old, almost a four-year, and just broken. So black and in
such a vigour of coat that the high lights on him clad him in
shimmering silver. He was the biggest riding animal on the ranch,
descended from the King's Sparklingdow with a range mare for dam,
and roped wild only two weeks before. I never have seen so
beautiful a horse. He had the round, deep-chested, big-hearted,
well-coupled body of the ideal mountain pony, and his head and neck
were true thoroughbred, slender, yet full, with lovely alert ears
not too small to be vicious nor too large to be stubborn mulish.
And his legs and feet were lovely too, unblemished, sure and firm,
with long springy pasterns that made him a wonder of ease under the
saddle."

"I remember hearing Prince Lilolilo tell Uncle John that you were
the best woman rider in all Hawaii," Martha interrupted to say.
"That was two years afterward when I was back from school and while
you were still living at Nahala."

"Lilolilo said that!" Bella cried. Almost as with a blush, her