“But, by way of apology, I’m letting you ride Ted,” said the doctor, handsomely. There was nothing beyond that in his gift. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Mind riding Ted?” Ginger smiled at him, putting a respectful hand on the big beast’s cheek.
“Mind going alone, Miss! And you’re to take this—” he strapped a belt about her waist and slipped his pistol into it.
“Of course I don’t mind going alone, but what is this for?”
“Oh, there have been several mountain lions about, recently, and it’s just as well—not that any mountain lion living could catch Ted, of course, even if it wanted to!” He nodded approvingly as she swung herself surely to the tall steed’s back. “You remember the way, of course—up the Government Trail to ours, where we went yesterday, on over the hill, past Post’s old barn—”
“I know,” said the girl, securely. “How long should it take me?”
“Well, Ted’s admittedly the fastest walker in the state, and part of the time you’ll be able to let him out, but it’ll be two hours, each way; you’ll be back by five-thirty, I should say, if you don’t linger too long at the spring.”
“I sha’n’t linger,” said Ginger, with dignity. “He won’t keep me waiting, I hope. I am just to ask him for the camp-fire permits?” She turned Ted toward the mountain.
“Yes, he’ll have them made out, and he’ll be on time. Oh, yes—and ask him to come down for supper with us, Saturday night, if he can, and dance.”
Ginger nodded and rode away, and the doctor and her Aunt Fan stood looking after her.