BUCKSKIN ON GUARD
"A good day's ride, all right, Bob!"
"You never said truer words, Frank. And now, with night setting in, how far do you think we've covered since the start this morning?"
The Kentucky boy sat in his saddle with a slight show of weariness, which was not to be wondered at, considering the steadiness with which they had kept on the move, hour after hour, heading in a general Westerly direction.
The satin skin of Domino was flecked with foam. Even the tough little Buckskin mount of Frank showed signs of weariness; though ready to keep on if his master gave the word.
"That would be hard to tell," replied the rancher's son; "but it must be all of sixty-five miles, I reckon."
"Then that beats my record some," declared the other.
"But it was a glorious gallop all the way through," asserted Frank.
"That's what; and more to follow to-morrow," his chum hastened to remark.