saddle, the steady hand on the rein. Bobs flew the big log like a bird,
and Norah twisted in her saddle to watch the black horse follow. Her
eyes were glowing as her father came up.

"I do think he loves it as much as I do!" she said, patting the pony's
neck.

"He's certainly as keen a pony as I ever saw," Mr. Linton said. "How
are you going to manage without him, Norah?"

Norah looked up, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"Do without BOBS!" she exclaimed. "But I simply couldn't--he's one of
the family." Then her face fell suddenly, and the life died out of her
voice. "Oh--school," she said.

The change was rather pitiful, and Mr. Linton mentally abused himself
for his question.

"He'll always be waiting for you when you come home, dear," he said.
"Plenty of holidays--and think how fit he'll be! We'll have great rides,
Norah."

"I guess I'll want them," she said. Silence fell between them.

The scrub at the backwater was fairly thick, and the cattle had sought
its shade when the noonday sun struck hot. Well fed and sleek, they lay
about under the trees or on the little grassy flats formed by the bends
of the stream. Norah and her father separated, each taking a dog, and
beat through the bush, routing out stragglers as they went. The echoes