“We named him that for two reasons,” she said, as they rode down the trail towards the creek. “He’s the color of ginger, and he has a temper that is gingery too.” She turned in her saddle to see if the last two girls were mounted safely. Very stiffly and anxiously they both sat in the saddles, Isabel with her back stiff as a poker, Ruth precise and resolute, her knees gripping the pony’s sides as though she had been on a pony express. “Don’t be afraid, girls,” she called to them. “They won’t bolt or kick a bit. Let them take the trail, and they’ll follow after the rest like sheep. Just hold them up a bit when you come to a steep incline, that’s all.”
“Don gave me a quirt,” said Polly, holding up the short braided whip.
“You’d better not wave it over Jinks’ head, young lady,” Jean laughed. “He objects strongly to violent persuasion of any sort. Just be content to jog along easily for a while.”
“Oh, where’s Peggie?” asked Sue suddenly. “I thought she was coming with us.”
“She started out long ago, goose,” Ted told her. “I saw something go ‘sky-hooting’ along this road right after breakfast, and at first I thought it must be a deer, or an Indian, but I saw Peggie’s pigtails flying, and knew it was just she. Does she always ride that way, Miss Murray?”
Jean laughed, and her eyes grew tender.
“I think she does. She rides to school all winter on that pony. Father gave it to her when she was about eight, for her very own, and she talks to it as though it understood everything. I presume it would seem strange to you girls to have the birthday presents we two have been accustomed to. Sometimes father gives us a pony, sometimes a yearling, or even a calf of our own, and we help look after them ourselves. He says that one of the finest ways to teach yourself self-reliance and responsibility is to have a living creature dependent on you. Take the turn to your left, Polly, where you come to the fork in the road over the bridge.”
Polly was leading, or rather Jinks was leading. He had a most authoritative way of throwing up his nose, and jerking the bridle as he went along, and a reckless swing to his gait that was enchanting, Polly thought. She only wished the Admiral might have seen her then. Down the road from the ranch, and over the plank bridge at the creek, they went. On the other side, at the fork, Jean told them one road led over the way they had come from Deercroft, and the other one led due west towards the Alameda ranch, where Mrs. Sandy lived.
“It is too far to go to-day, girls, when you are not used to riding, but we can try it in a few days, I think. Elspeth has gone over there now, to let them know you came yesterday.”
“I wonder, Miss Murray,” called back Polly over her shoulder, “why it was that Miss Calvert didn’t send any message to Miss Diantha by us.”