Then she heard the regular click, click of hoofs, like music through her sleep, and opened her eyes on a sweep of golden prairie dipping to meet the sky.
“Most ready for supper?” asked Cousin David, laughing, as she struggled to sit up in his lap.
“Oh, David, let me drive!” she said, “I didn’t know I was here.”
Cousin David lived with Grandmother at the farm, and had driven in, twenty miles, to meet them.
“What’s the matter with Chucklehead’s tail?” asked Grandmother, severely. “It never looked like that before!”
“Just a little baldness, Auntie. You know that tail’s seen a heap of service, and he’s an old horse.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” said Grandmother. But Kenneth thought that there were tears in her eyes.
“Can’t we ride Ole after supper to-night?” he asked.
“Yes, if Jansen’s willing, and you’re not too tired.”
Ole was the herder’s pony, and the children were allowed to ride him evenings, after the cattle had been brought home.