With that he was gone to the gate, touched his foot in the stirrup, sprang with the agility of a cat into the saddle and started off quickly. Just then, however, Bess noticed that he had dropped his handkerchief, and saw the rider swing his horse quickly about, drop low over the side of the saddle, snatch the handkerchief from the ground, resume his position in the saddle and gallop on as though it were no feat at all. She cried out in her astonishment, so that Mrs. West came hurriedly in to learn the cause of her alarm. When Bess told her what she had just witnessed, Mrs. West smiled, and explained that at the July celebration she would have an opportunity to see some really wonderful feats in riding.
“Henry told me just now that I must hurry to win the new gun he promised me,” said Bess, as she and Mrs. West hurried about, finishing the breakfast work. “Do you know,” continued the girl, “it seems to me I would be very conspicuous with a gun stuck into my belt. James and Henry both agree that if I insist upon going about alone with my horse, that I must have a gun.”
“Yes, dear, one cannot tell what unexpected danger might arise. A drunken Indian, or an infuriated steer, or even a rattlesnake may molest one, and the boys are wise in insisting,” answered Mrs. West.
At first, when Henry West brought out the 22 rifle to give Bess her first lesson, she ran behind a tree and thrust her fingers in her ears. After a little she would pull the trigger with both eyes shut tight, if he would hold the gun. At length she submitted to having it placed against her shoulder and to holding it unassisted.
“Oh, Bess! Don’t be such a baby,” said her brother to her one day, as she was trying to overcome her aversion to shooting the 22. Instantly her eyes looked daggers at the boys; snatching the gun, she thrust it up against her shoulder, pulled the trigger and banged away! When she opened her eyes she saw James peering from behind one tree and Henry from another. Both were smiling at her impetuosity, but James then and there told her that the first essential was to handle a weapon carefully.
“That is all right!! But don’t you call me a baby again! I’ll beat you shooting yet! See if I don’t!” flung back the girl.
During the next week, while the boys were at Selish with the shipment of steers, Bess practiced with the little rifle at every opportunity, and her progress was marked indeed.
“Mauchacho is feeling gay this morning, Bess,” said Mrs. West, as she and the girl mounted and started for the ferry at Polson. The dainty horse shook his head and side-stepped first one way and then the other. He seemed to know and feel that he carried a graceful rider, and was doing these little extra steps to add to the charming picture.
Bess’ lithe body swung to each new antic, and the ruddy glow of health on her cheeks told how keen was the enjoyment.
“My! how dearly I love to feel a horse under me!” she cried as she leaned forward to smooth a strand in the horse’s mane. “It seems to me that I shall hate ever having to go on wheels again.”