“What’s the matter with these ponies?” demanded the Indian, sharply. “How’d they get in this shape? I thought you could drive a pair of hawses, boy?” he added, with scorn, looking at Tom.
“I got out to buckle a strap and they got away,” said Tom, rather sheepishly.
“Don’t you scold him, Jib!” commanded Jane Ann, vigorously. “He ain’t to blame.”
“Who is?”
“That girl yonder,” snapped the ranchman’s niece, pointing an accusing finger at Mary Cox. “I saw her start ’em on the run while Tom was on the ground.”
“Never!” cried The Fox, almost in tears.
“You did,” repeated Jane Ann.
“Anyway, I didn’t think they’d start and run so. They’re dangerous. It wasn’t right for the men to give us such wild ponies. I’ll speak to Mr. Hicks about it.”
“You needn’t fret,” said Jane Ann, sternly. “I’ll tell Uncle Bill all right, and I bet you don’t get a chance to play such a trick again as long as you’re at Silver Ranch——”
Ruth, who had scrambled up with Helen, now placed a restraining hand on the arm of the angry Western girl; but Jane Ann sputtered right out: