It was a rare place for a protracted chase. For miles and miles northward (the course they were following) the great, flat plain stretched away—although level, always hard and solid.
The chase still continued, still repeating itself: now a spurt, and the rabbit is near; Bunny springs once or twice and the sorrel pony is behind again.
Once she thought she had heard a shout far behind; but intent upon overtaking the rabbit, still kept on and looked not back.
At last the chase was terminated rather suddenly. Evidently becoming wearied with his frolics, the rabbit cast a single look behind, then to Kissie’s utter dismay, darted away at full speed.
She had seen frightened antelopes flee like the wind; she had seen wild mustangs scour away in affright; but never before had she seen a “jack-rabbit” on his mettle.
There was a sudden streak before her, a small white speck bobbing up and down; and when Kissie reined in the pony she was alone. The rabbit was far away.
“Duped! miserably deceived!” were her exclamations as the truth forced itself upon her. “To think that insignificant creature had so much reason in him. Why, he was only deceiving me, after all—a mean trick to gratify his wicked little heart. I might have known it by the way he acted. Well, I never; and what a laugh there will be when I get back. Deceived by a paltry rabbit. I can imagine how they will laugh. Father will never let me hear the last of it—neither will that horrid Burt Scranton; only Sam will be my champion. And how that horrid guide will grin, too—I declare it makes me provoked to think of it.”
She pouted prettily and gazed where the sly animal had disappeared. Then she spoke again:
“Well, it is of no use that I can see—my remaining here. It is ’most supper-time and I will go back, without my boasted capture. So, Dimple—tired, pet? We are going back.”
She turned the pony’s head around and slowly cantered off, still musing over her defeat, without raising her head.