The full breeches and long coat and leggings gave her every freedom
of action, and she had put on a wide-brimmed hat. Meanwhile Walter
had brought forth from one of his bags a pair of leather riding
leggings and buckled on small spurs. He had been forewarned of this
ride by Rhoda before they left Chicago.

They mounted the two ponies, and the driver of the buckboard lifted
his reins. Then he pulled the eager ponies to a stop again and
turned toward Rhoda, answering her second question.

"Yes, ma'am, your mother's fine. She's fine," he announced.

"Don't that beat all!" exclaimed Walter, exploding with laughter as
he cantered by Rhoda's side. "That is why we call him 'Hesitation,
'" Rhoda said.

"Somebody taught him to count more than ten before speaking, didn't
they?" commented Walter.

The trail was not wide enough for the pony riders to keep their
mounts beside the buckboard; besides, the dust would have smothered
Rhoda and Walter. The light breeze carried the dust off the trail,
however; so the two riders could keep within shouting distance of
the others.

In two hours or a little more they were out of the barren lands
completely. Swerving down an arroyo, all green and lush at the
bottom, they cantered up into the mouth of a broad gulch, the walls
of which later became so steep that it might well be called a
canyon.