“Eh? What? Amazing! ‘California story’?”
The proud father laughed. “A ‘California story,’ certainly, but a true one. Those fellows adopted her from the outset. They fixed up a sort of box-saddle, cushioned and perfectly safe, and strapped it on Tito’s back. He was but a colt then, and I would not have allowed it perhaps; but they persuaded Suzan´ in my absence, and when I saw how it worked I did not object. That is how it began. To-day—it ends.”
A sudden wave of regret swept over poor Mr. Calthorp’s heart, and turning away from a spectacle his affliction prevented his witnessing, he sought the retirement of his own apartments. “My dear little girl! How changed her life will be! From this freedom, this queenship, into the restriction of a country town and the submission of a schoolroom. Best for her, doubtless, but—poor little Steenie!”
Meanwhile Steenie neither pitied nor even thought of herself. Side by side with four other competitors, the piebald Tito kept his own place, and tossed his head in equine enjoyment of the excitement, while his young mistress applauded him softly, with that praise which was incitement as well.
Round and round the course, till the child’s eyes glittered and her cheeks glowed at the shouts of encouragement which reached her from every point. “Go it, Little Un!” “Hurrah for the ‘Mascot’!” “The Little Un’ll win, you bet!”
Such admiration is not the best mental diet for a young human being, perhaps, but it had not as yet hurt Steenie; and this was probably the last time that it would be hers. With a loyal recognition of the good-will expressed, she waved her hand and laughed and nodded, and “rode her level best.”
“Don’t ye let nobody better ye, Little Un, else you’ll break Bob’s old heart!” warned that worthy, himself urging the gray horse to its utmost.
“Not I!” returned his pupil, and dashed ahead.
Evidently the contest was between these two, who had outstripped the rest, and now crowded each other for the shortest line toward the fluttering bit of cambric on the path before them.
“Hurrah! Hurrah! Tito, my Tito! Now, now! Vamos! Quick—a spurt! Win—you must!”