“There’s a red horse in the sky, with a mane like Ole’s,” she thought. And, indeed Ole’s mane was quite crimson in the glow. “I suppose he has a red tail too, if I could just turn round and see it.”
Back in the farmhouse Grandmother had begun to watch the road, and when the red light faded, she became uneasy.
“Perhaps she’s slipped in some back way, without my seeing her,” she thought, and went out to ask the men.
But at the door she met David, looking much disturbed, “Say, Auntie, I hate to tell you,” he said; “but the pony’s come home,—without any saddle, and we’re just hitching up to go down and see what’s happened.”
Grandmother started off down the road on a run, with Kenneth puffing frantically in her rear.
“Won’t you wait for the buggy?” called David through his hands.
“No!” she answered. And Kenneth thought he had never heard her voice sound like that before.
“Oh, my baby, Grandma’s baby!” she said once, under her breath, and tears began to mingle with yellow dust on the face of the small toiler behind.
“Kenny, hadn’t you better go home, dear?” she asked at last, turning to the little companion, whose spirit was willing, although his legs were short.
“No!” he replied, in a voice that was an echo of Grandmother’s own. “She may be your granddaughter, but,” here he sniffed, and rubbed more dirt into his eyes, “she’s my sister, and don’t you forget it!”