“A prize Percheron mare of Mr. Hernstadt’s.”
“If you find her, how are you going to catch her?” asked Jean, who was a practical young lady.
“Why, Ticktock could catch any slow old Percheron,” said Jim scornfully. Actually he hadn’t thought about what he would do after locating the missing horse.
“I don’t mean catch up with her. How are you going to put a halter on her if she’s the kind of horse that runs away?”
“Well,” drawled Jim, who had just had an idea. “I’ve been doing a lot of practicing with my lariat. I think I could lasso a slow-moving horse.”
While his admiring and envious sister gazed after him, Jim rode away. All afternoon he jogged back and forth, up and down the hills, carefully covering the territory of his map. The sun was hot and the country roads were dusty.
What had begun as an adventurous hunt, turned out to be a tedious job. At sundown he turned toward home. He was very tired and so was Ticktock. Most of the roads were now crossed off the map. Only a few were left unexplored.
That night Jim lay in bed considering the problem. The mail would be delivered at about eleven the next morning and then everyone would be on the lookout for the missing mare. He would have to work fast.
At breakfast the next morning Jim asked to be excused from the remaining chores.
“What is this mysterious mission?” asked Mr. Meadows good-naturedly.