“So that’s it, eh?” he chuckled. “She is soldiering, but never mind. We will take all that out of her.”
“That is what I told Kitty this morning. I promised her that she should get all that was coming to her. Stand up, you lazy-bones!” commanded Stacy sharply, at the same time giving the mare a slap on the stomach. Kitty instantly retaliated by taking a chunk out of the boy’s sleeve, and a wee bit of skin with it.
Stacy howled and jerked away. His face flushed, and he raised a hand to strike back.
“Don’t do that!” rebuked Grace. “Never, never strike a horse on the head! It is a sure way to spoil an animal. And never punish a horse when you are in anger. Should an animal need punishing, punish him humanely, but trim him so thoroughly that you never may be called upon to repeat the performance.”
“But, she bit me,” protested Stacy.
“Forget it!” laughed Grace.
“I should say that the poor beast is already sufficiently punished after biting Stacy Brown,” observed Emma meekly.
“Be firm, but gentle,” continued Grace. “Kitty is in just the right mood to be spoiled by rough treatment.”
Stacy was not over-gentle. He jerked the white mare about, shook his fist in her face and announced in a loud tone what he would do to her did she ever again try to make a meal out of his arm.
In the meantime Hippy, with an interested group of Overland girls observing, was putting the final touches to the packing, making the lead-ropes fast, using a knot that he had learned, by which, in case of trouble, one can reach from his saddle and jerk the pack free by a single pull on a loose end of a rope.