she told herself, disconsolately and not oversincerely. The best of
us are not above trying to pull the wool over our own eyes, at times.

In reality their brief presence made the near future seem very flat
and insipid to the Little Doctor. It was washing all the color out
of the picture, and leaving it a dirty gray. She gazed moodily down
at the whirl of dust in the corral, where Whizzer was struggling to
free himself from the loop Chip had thrown with his accustomed, calm
precision. Whatever Chip did he did thoroughly, with no slurring of
detail. Whizzer was fain to own himself fairly caught.

"Oh, he's got you fast, my beauty!" sighed the Little Doctor, woefully.
"Why didn't you jump over the fence--I think you COULD--and run, run, to
freedom?" She grew quite melodramatic over the humiliation of the horse
she had chosen to champion, and glared resentfully when Chip threw his
saddle, with no gentle hand, upon the sleek back and tightened the
cinches with a few strong, relentless yanks.

"Chip, you're an ugly, mean-tempered--that's right, Whizzer! Kick him if
you can--I'll stand by you!" This assertion, you understand, was purely
figurative; the Little Doctor would have hesitated long before attempting
to carry it out literally.

"Now, Whizzer, when he tries to ride you, don't you let him! Throw him
clear-over-the STABLE--so there!"

Perhaps Whizzer understood the command in some mysterious, telepathic
manner. At any rate, he set himself straightway to obey it, and there
was not a shadow of doubt but that he did his best--but Chip did not
choose to go over the stable. Instead of doing so, he remained in