I was very unhappy while she helped me to dress, and pinned up my
braids, and hid them under my storm hat; and I was absolutely wretched
when she kissed me and said,
"It would be hard to find a prettier little boy than you are."
After again admonishing me to let no one on the range know I was a
girl, and to answer all questions civilly and ride on quickly after my
string of cows, she promised that if I helped her thus through the
short days of the rainy season, she would give back my "girl clothes"
in the Spring, and never again ask me to wear others.
She led me to where Charlie was tied to a tree. I stepped on to a
block, from there to a stump, put my foot into the stirrup, and
clumsily raised myself into the seat of an old dragoon saddle. My eyes
were too full of tears to see, but grandma put the reins in my hand and
started me away. Away where? To drive up the cows? Yes,--and into wider
fields of thought than she recked.
After I got beyond our road, I stopped Charlie, and made him turn his
face toward mine, and told him all that had happened, and just how I
felt. The good old horse seemed to understand, for no friend could be
more faithful than Charlie thenceforth proved to me. He learned to
separate our cows from the many strange ones on the plain; to move
faster when it rained; to choose the crossings that were safe; and to
avoid the branches that might scrape me from his back.
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