“I’m glad you’re so sure,” he returned, grimly. “I can’t see the ground, even.”
“But the ponies know, if I don’t,” observed Helen, cheerfully. “Nothing to be afraid of.”
“I guess you think I am kind of a tenderfoot?” he returned.
“You’re not used to night traveling on the cattle range,” she said. “You see, we lay our courses by the stars, just as mariners do at sea. I can find my way to the ranch-house from clear beyond Elberon, as long as the stars show.”
“Well,” he sighed, “this is some different from riding on the bridle-path in Central Park.”
“That’s in New York?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I mean to go there. It’s really a big city, I suppose?”
“Makes Denver look like a village,” said Stone, laughing to smother a groan.
“So father said.”