"I don't blame J. G. for loving this place," thought the Little Doctor,
drinking in the intoxication of the West with every breath she drew.

She had just become absorbed in her work when a clatter arose from the
grade below, and a dozen horses, headed by a tall, rangy sorrel she
surmised was Whizzer, dashed down the hill. Weary and Chip galloped
close behind. They did not look up, and so passed without seeing her.
They were talking and laughing in very good spirits--which the Little
Doctor resented, for some inexplicable reason. She heard them call to
Slim to open the corral gate, and saw Slim run to do their bidding.
She forgot her sketching and watched Whizzer dodge and bolt back, and
Chip tear through the creek bed after him at peril of life and limb.

Back and forth, round and round went Whizzer, running almost through the
corral gate, then swerving suddenly and evading his pursuers with an ease
which bordered closely on the marvelous. Slim saddled a horse and joined
in the chase, and the Old Man climbed upon the fence and shouted advice
which no one heard and would not have heeded if they had.

As the chase grew in earnestness and excitement, the sympathies of
the Little Doctor were given unreservedly to Whizzer. Whenever a
particularly clever maneuver of his set the men to swearing, she
clapped her hands in sincere, though unheard and unappreciated,
applause.

"Good boy!" she cried, approvingly, when he dodged Chip and whirled
through the big gate which the Old Man had unwittingly left open.
J. G. leaned perilously forward and shook his fist unavailingly.
Whizzer tossed head and heels alternately and scurried up the path