as he had seen HER do. Such pink little fingers they were! He laid his
brown cheek against the place where he remembered them to have rested.

"Silver horse," he whispered, "if I ever fall in love with a girl--which
isn't likely!--I'll want her to have dimples and big, gray eyes and a
laugh like--"






CHAPTER VIII.
Prescriptions.



It was Sunday, the second day after the dance. The boys were scattered,
for the day was delicious--one of those sweet, soft days which come to us
early in May. Down in the blacksmith shop Chip was putting new rowels
into his spurs and whistling softly to himself while he worked.

The Little Doctor had gone with him to visit Silver that morning, and
had not hurried away, but had leaned against the manger and listened
while he told her of the time Silver, swimming the river when it was
"up," had followed him to the Shonkin camp when Chip had thought to
leave him at home. And they had laughed together over the juvenile
seven and the subsequent indignation of the mothers who, with the
exception of "Mary," had bundled up their offspring and gone home mad.
True, they had none of them thoroughly understood the situation, having