The two children, unconscious of any cause for uneasiness in their father's early return, followed Mrs. Briscoe as she stepped from the door and walked a few paces down the road to meet the approaching rider, who came on without slacking pace until he drew up beside them. His horse, a small animal, was dripping with sweat and trembling with exertion, for it was a hot August day and his rider was a large man. Mr. Briscoe, for he it was, stepped down from the saddle rather stiffly. His face was very grave as he kissed his wife and children.
"Did you get my coyote trap, papa?" cried the little boy, almost before his father's foot had touched the ground.
"Did you bring my calico, papa?" chimed in Annie.
"No, my dears, I hadn't time. You had better run away a minute." He glanced at his wife significantly.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" exclaimed Tommy. "But let me unsaddle Chick." He caught the stirrup leather and swung himself nimbly into the saddle.
"Go and finish feeding the calf, Annie," said Mrs. Briscoe.
The little girl, with disappointed face, walked obediently toward the stable, into which Tommy had already ridden.
"What has happened, Thomas?" exclaimed Mrs. Briscoe, her voice quivering with anxiety, as soon as the children were beyond hearing.
Her husband laid his strong hand reassuringly on her arm.