"Oh, just a couple I got for the forest work," answered Wilbur with overdone carelessness.
They rode on in silence a few rods, then the old Ranger spoke again.
"Don't ever be afraid o' lettin' on you've made a mistake, son," he said; "the more mistakes you make the more you'll know. There's only one thing to remember, don't make the same mistake twice."
"I'll try not," said the boy.
The Ranger reined up beside the lad, and, reaching out his long, gaunt hand, patted the neck of the pony on which Wilbur was riding.
"They're half-sisters, those two," he said. "I raised 'em from colts myself. I rode the mother over these very trails, many and many's the time. This one is called Kit, after her."
Wilbur flushed at the remembrance of the manner in which before he had slighted the old scout's choice.
"Oh, Rifle-Eye," he said penitently, "if I'd only known!"
"You'll prize them more now," the Ranger said.