“We are all agreed on the question of the name suggested by Elfreda,” announced Anne. “It is a fine name, and cannot be improved upon.”
“Neither can the Overland Riders,” interjected Emma.
“Of course, if you girls wish it that way, I have no objection, but it does seem to me that the name ‘Overland Riders’ should be sufficient without having to hook my name ahead. ‘Overland’ sounds like Overton and is a good word for us, a lucky word.”
“Grace Harlowe’s Overland Riders it is, now, always and forever,” announced Elfreda.
“So long as the unearthly, ghostly, weird sahuaro shall flourish and grow red flowers,” added Hippy Wingate amid the laughter of his companions.
“Overland Riders, boots and saddles!” called Grace, springing up.
The Riders followed her, each running to her pony, quickly coiling the lead rope about the pommel of her saddle and mounting.
“That was well done, girls. Only Lieutenant Wingate bungled,” called Captain Grace as she started away at a gallop.
“I missed my stirrup,” answered Hippy lamely, but no one heeded, if she heard.
“We make camp at Summit, do we not?” asked Elfreda, riding up beside Grace.