The heavy things, such as tents, bedding, cooking utensils, and so on, were to follow in what Don called the grub wagon.
Sally Lost Moon was to stay at the ranch and do the cooking and housework for the boys, and it had been decided to let the girls ride their ponies. When one of them grew tired, she could ride in the wagon. The girls were delighted at this prospect. Of all the outdoor pleasures they had enjoyed at the ranch, the riding came first of all. There was something so exhilarating and healthful about it. The trouting was good sport and plenty of fun, and the long tramps they took nearly every day out to the Indian graves, or over old Topnotch’s twisted trails, or far down along the river to the lower rapids, each held a special enjoyment all its own, but there was something so novel and exciting about the pony riding that it excelled all other sports.
Polly had been delighted too, the first time that Jinks whinnied to her, and showed plainly he felt on friendly terms. By the third week, all of the ponies were quite willing to respond to the petting and overtures of friendship that had been lavished on them.
“I do really believe they all know us by now,” Ted had declared, that morning. “Don let me help rub Shoofly down yesterday morning, and he understood everything I said to him.”
“Who, Don?” queried Sue, in a muffled tone, as she knelt by a locker, and dug down under towels and mosquito netting to be sure that she had not packed the kodak at the very bottom.
“No, goose. The pony. I wish I could take him back home. I shall miss him so, and the riding, and oh—I don’t know what to call it—the wideness of everything.”
“Glorious expanse, she means, Sue,” Isabel explained. “Where did you pack my hand mirror?”
“It is not packed, Lady Vanitas,” retorted Sue, firmly. “We are to wash at pools and river brinks, and other handy wet spots en route, and you’ll just have to peek over at yourself like Narcissus when you want to see how you look.”
“Don’t you worry, Isabel,” Polly called cheerily. “I saw Peggie drop a three-cornered looking glass in the box with the dishes. We’ll nail it up on a tree. Oh, girls, I wish we had some lightweight rifles, not to shoot with—”
“Not shoot with?” repeated Ted, indignantly. “For what, then?”