"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 passed 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!"