The whole family was packed into the two seats of the heavy farm-wagon, the mother driving with one of the boys beside her; Carita in the back seat holding Joe and, at the same time, keeping a watchful eye on the two lively youngsters by her side. Bedding and camp equipment were heaped high in the wagon-box.

"You look like a picture of 'Crossing the Plains,'" Blue Bonnet exclaimed.

"Play you're the Injuns going to scalp us!" begged Carita's brother Harry, his big dark eyes shining with eagerness.

Blue Bonnet gave a shrill "Ho, ye ho, ho!" that pa.s.sed for a war-whoop, and in a minute they were all off, the farm horses rather startled at the carryings-on; the small boys wild with excitement; and the We are Sevens tearing madly down the road "ki-yi-ing" at the top of their voices.

Mrs. Clyde turned with a smile to Dr. Judson, who stood looking rather amazedly after his departing family. "Blue Bonnet is alternately five and fifteen," she remarked.

"She is decidedly refreshing," he returned. "I hope you will try to keep her a child as long as possible."

"I don't need to try!" she replied with a laugh.

The parting between the "emigrants" and the Indians was not such as history records of leave-takings between these sworn enemies. Carita had to wink hard to keep back the tears when she said good-bye to Blue Bonnet, and the little Judsons set up a loud wail when their former pursuers waved them farewell.

"It's a shame Carita has to go back and slave on that old farm," Blue Bonnet declared, as she looked after the little figure holding on to the baby with one hand and waving her handkerchief in the other.

"It seems selfish of us to be having a whole summer of fun when she's only had two or three days," said Sarah.

"Sarah talks as if it's downright wicked for any of us to be having a good time," Kitty retorted. "Maybe you think one of us ought to change places with Carita?" she challenged Sarah.

"Sarah is the only one of us that's unselfish enough to do such a thing!" Blue Bonnet exclaimed warmly; and Sarah sent her a grateful glance.

They were in a part of the country that Blue Bonnet called "the other side of the hills,"--a land of sheep-ranches, for the most part; rather barren and level, unlike the rolling green prairie of the cattle-country she loved. They could see the Judson's wagon winding its way across the plain, until only a blur of dust marked its course towards the horizon.

"Let's hurry," said Blue Bonnet, "I promised Grandmother we'd surely be back for lunch."

"It isn't your turn to cook, is it?" asked Kitty.

"No,--it's my turn to eat!" And Blue Bonnet, urging Firefly, was off at a lively clip towards camp.

"Please stop, Blue Bonnet," panted Kitty after a few minutes of this sort of going. "I've a dreadful pain in my side."

Blue Bonnet good-naturedly fell back with her, and the rest swept past them with a chorus of taunts for being "quitters." Both girls looked after Comanche and his rider with something like wonder in their eyes.

Sarah was riding like a veteran; it was plain that she and Comanche understood each other at last.

"Sarah's coming on, isn't she?" said Kitty.

"Coming?--I think she's arrived!" Blue Bonnet exclaimed.

"She can thank me for picking out Comanche for her," remarked Kitty; she preferred herself to be the object of Blue Bonnet's approbation and could not be roused to much enthusiasm on Sarah's account.

"Considering your motive, Kitty-Kat, I'm not so sure Sarah owes you any grat.i.tude," laughed Blue Bonnet. Suddenly she gave an exclamation.

"Why, there's a lamb,--I wonder if it's dead."

"Where?" asked Kitty.

Blue Bonnet pointed to a spot some distance off the road, but Kitty's city-bred eyes could make out nothing. Just then there came a feeble bleat, and in a second Blue Bonnet had slipped from the saddle and handed the reins to Kitty.

"Hold Firefly a minute, please. That _is_ a lamb!"

Kitty obediently held the unwilling Firefly, while Blue Bonnet hurried in the direction of the bleat. A moment later she stooped, and when she straightened up, there was a small woolly object in her arms.

"It's too little to travel and the mean old mother's gone off with the flock," Blue Bonnet said, coming up with the deserted baby.

"What are you going to do with it?" demanded Kitty helplessly.

"I'm going to find the flock. It's been driven along here and inside that fence. I'm going to let down the bars and cross the field. You see the little shanty over there?--I believe there must be a shepherd somewhere about, and I'll give him the lamb. He isn't a very good shepherd or he'd have been looking out for poor little lambs. Shady used to herd sheep and he's told me lots about it."

"And what shall I do?" asked Kitty. "I'm afraid to hold Firefly,--he nearly pulls me off the saddle."

"Then tie both horses to the bars here and help me with the lamb."

Kitty offered no protest. This was so like Blue Bonnet. It was always a stray dog or a lost baby, or an old woman at the poor-house that enlisted her ready sympathy; Kitty ran over a long list in her mind.

Of course it had to be a lost lamb or a calf in Texas; the wonder was there hadn't been more of them.

Hastily tying both ponies to a fence-post with a scrambling knot of the reins that would have brought down Blue Bonnet's wrath upon her hapless head, Kitty hastened across the close-cropped meadow. It seemed to her they trudged miles, taking turns carrying the lamb, before they reached the little shack. A stupid young fellow, half-asleep, lay sprawled in the shade.

"Here's a lamb we found by the road," said Blue Bonnet, proffering her woolly burden.

Without uttering a word the sleepy youth took the lamb from her; but Blue Bonnet, observing his manner of handling it, saw that he was wise in the ways of sheep, and she was content to leave her charge with him.

"Flock's over there," he said at length, pointing vaguely with his thumb.

"All right. Come on, Kitty." As they turned away she said in an undertone: "Shady says the herders are alone so much they almost forget how to talk."

"He's evidently forgotten how to say 'thank you,'" Kitty said crossly.

"Why, Blue Bonnet--where are the horses?"

"You ought to know. Where did you tie them?"

Kitty's startled eyes rested on the post beside the bars. "To that post there. Oh, Blue Bonnet, some one must have stolen them!"

"Stolen? Who'd steal them, I'd like to know? This comes, Kitty Clark, of letting you hitch a horse!" Blue Bonnet was straining her eyes for a sight of the runaways.

"This comes, Blue Bonnet Ashe, of following you on every wild-goose chase you choose to lead me!" Cross, tired and out of patience, Kitty flared up in one of her sudden outbursts, and Blue Bonnet took fire at once.

"If you think I'm going to let a poor creature starve to death rather than disturb your comfort, you're much mistaken!" An angry glance pa.s.sed between them.

Sarah, the pacifier, was several miles away by this time; and even she would have felt her resources sorely taxed to meet this emergency.

Miles from camp and no horses!

Kitty stalked into the road and started to walk, holding her head high and swinging her arms as though _she_ didn't mind a little matter of five or six miles. Blue Bonnet, with the training of a lifetime, stopped to put up the bars before setting out on the long tramp. It was already noon and the sun glared down, unbearably hot. Before she had gone a mile Blue Bonnet looked about for a mesquite bush, and finding one sank down in its shade. Kitty kept doggedly on.

"Oh, Kitty!" Blue Bonnet called after her. "I've heard of people who hadn't sense enough to come in out of the rain, and I think it's a heap sillier not to have sense enough to come in out of the sun!"

Kitty wavered; and was lost. Turning back she threw herself beside Blue Bonnet with a groan.

"My feet are one big blister," she moaned, her anger swallowed up in the anguish of the moment.