“Aw, let her go,” mumbled Burch, looking up from the table, where he was busy over a book and some diagrams. “I don’t want to. It suits her. She likes it.” “—and certainly not a proper sort of a trip—for a little girl.” “Burch!” Hilda exploded. “Why, Burch can’t ride.” Her aunt looked bewildered. “Oh, I know—he can sit up on a horse. But he wouldn’t be of the least bit of use to a trail outfit, would he, Uncle Hank? And I can help you lots—can’t I?” “I didn’t understand from Mr. Pearsall that you were to help with the work,” Miss Valeria said severely. “I think the work must be a great deal more unsuitable for you than the trip itself.” “Oh, please, Aunt Valeria—dear Aunt Valeria!” entreated Hilda, surging up to her aunt’s knee. “I’ll be so good. When we come back I’ll study anything you want me to, and not read so many stories.” “Well, your music—but then we’ve no piano,” Miss Val sighed. “And I believe you said, Mr. Pearsall—” She broke off, looking up with a slightly aggrieved expression at the tall ranch manager. She had announced to him that Hilda must have a piano, and for once Hank had been resolute in refusing to sell some ponies and purchase the instrument. “We’ll get a piano all right, now, Miss Valeria,” he assured her. “Them horses, that I had the nerve to hang on to, gives us plenty for the drive. You see, it would take a hundred and twenty-five ponies to handle a trail herd of that size, and I don’t know where in Texas I’d ’a’ got the money to buy with right now. By next spring, if we have luck, I could set you a row of pianos plumb acrost the room.” “I hardly think we’ll need more than one,” Miss Valeria said, somewhat hastily. “But about Hilda—” “Run along upstairs and pack your war bag, Pettie. We’ll start soon as it’s light in the morning,” said Hank to the child; and Hilda flew to obey, leaving him to conclude the argument with Miss Van Brunt. CHAPTER XVII WITH THE TRAIL-HERD In the first gray of morning, a caravan swung out from the corral at the Three Sorrows. They were making a start at dawn. You can go almost anywhere if you start at dawn. Indeed, there are worlds that may be penetrated at no other hour. A group of riders were in the lead, the remuda, or saddle-band, following, herded by the wrangler; the chuck wagon, driven by Pearsall, brought up the rear; Hilda, beside Uncle Hank on the high seat, with heaven knows what dreams under the thatch of dark hair, peeping out sometimes from the clear windows of her eyes.