a mirror!

"We must get him up from there and into a box stall. There is one,
isn't there?"

"Y--e-s--" Chip hesitated. "I wouldn't ask the Old--your brother,
for the use of it, though; not even for Silver."

"I will," returned she, promptly. "I never feel any compunction
about asking for what I want--if I can't get it any other way. I
can't understand why you wanted to shoot--you must have known this
bone could be set."

"I didn't WANT to--" Chip bent over and drove a fly from Silver's
shoulder. "When a horse belonging to the outfit gets crippled like
that, he makes coyote bait. A forty-dollar cow-puncher can't expect
any better for his own horse."

"He'll GET better, whatever he may expect. I'm just spoiling for
something to practice on, anyway--and he's such a beauty. If you can
get him up, lead him to the stable while I go and tell J. G. and get
some one to help." She started away.

"Whom shall I get?" she called back.

"Weary, if you can--and Slim's a good hand with horses, too."

"Slim--is that the tall, lanky man?"

"No--he's the short, fat one. That bean-pole is Shorty."