And fight they did! It was now a question of whether the horse or the man should be the winner of the contest. From the moment that the man touched the saddle, that horse reared, plunged, kicked, and bucked in every way he knew; and finding that nothing he could do would unseat the rider, he even tried rolling over upon him. But Jonnie leaped in time, and avoiding the flying hoofs, was in the saddle again the instant the horse regained his feet.
Meanwhile, the audience watched in breathless excitement, or else cheered madly, depending on the way they were affected. Marjorie was among the breathless ones, expecting every moment to see the man thrown. Once, for a brief instant, it did look as though the horse had actually won; for the rider was seen to leave his back; but the next moment, with a gasp of amazement, the spectators were aware that the cinch had broken, and Jonnie was sailing through the air, still seated firmly in the saddle. Badly shaken, but undaunted, the man called for another saddle, and the fight was resumed. But, true to his nickname, Jonnie continued to stick like fly-paper in the saddle, until even the horse began to realize that here at last was a rider whom it was beyond his power to throw. Fagged, breathing hard, he came to a stand with wide-spread, trembling legs. While the crowd was cheering madly, “Fly-paper” put the spurs to him, and went tearing around the arena, the master.
“Oh!” sighed Marjorie; “I wish I could ride like that!”
“So say we all!” replied Lily.
CHAPTER IX.
THE PICNIC.
In spite of all the excitement, it was good to be home again. It was wonderful, thought Marjorie, and some of the others who went with her, to get up early in the morning and help bring the horses in; to have the free and easy companionship of these friendly people all day long; to go on beautiful rides, and see the mountains in all their glory; and, at the close of the day, to join in the games on the porch; or, later, to go for a stroll in the moonlight.
It was only when the mail came in that Marjorie and Daisy felt a tinge of unhappiness. Unconsciously, all the girls expected that in some way the mystery about Daisy’s sister would be solved, and that the news of it would come by letter. Unless, as Alice kept reminding them, they, the Girl Scouts, should have a hand in unravelling it. If only they might, Marjorie felt that it would be the crowning good turn to the troop’s history.
Marjorie felt disconcerted, too, that she had heard nothing from John Hadley. No doubt it was her own fault; the young man had written courteously to her mother after the week-end at the seashore, and probably expected her to regard that as a letter to herself. She admitted that she missed him, but she could not make up her mind to write immediately.
When the first Sunday of the scouts’ visit arrived, Mr. Hilton announced that there would be no riding; but instead the whole party would go in boats or canoes up the modest little stream not far from the ranch, and have dinner and supper out-doors.