"Our last sunrise on the ranch, Solomon, for ever and ever so long,--we're off to Massachusetts this very morning. And it's a Pullman for me and a baggage-car for you--no private car this time! But I'll come and see you at every station and see that you have exercise. Poor dog, I wonder how you'll like the 'resumption of discipline'--as Alec calls it? We're going back to Aunt Lucinda, you know, Solomon, and Aunt Lucinda's strong for discipline." Her eyes wandered off toward the distant hills and then away across the wind-swept, rolling prairie. How would it seem to be back again among houses, tall houses with trim door-yards and clipped hedges,--houses so close one couldn't throw a stone without "breaking a window or a tradition"--? Some one was whistling "All the Blue Bonnets are over the Border." She looked up as Alec came towards her. "Do I intrude upon a solemn hour?" he asked. "The solemn hour has ticked its last second. I've said good-bye to everything and everybody,--except Texas and Massachusetts. Come with me to see those infants." Hardly infants any longer, however. Long-tailed, with erect silky ears and coats that stood out shaggily from their fattening sides, the coyotes were fast growing into big, clumsy dogs. "You'll look after them, won't you, Alec?" Blue Bonnet asked anxiously. "That I will," he promised. "And you'll write me often about--everything? And see that Uncle Cliff doesn't smoke too much, and that Uncle Joe takes his rheumatism medicine--" "Trust me!" Alec knew better than to smile at such a moment. "And in turn, Blue Bonnet, you'll give an eye to Grandfather, won't you?" They shook hands on it solemnly, and went in to breakfast. Kitty, her face restored to its usual milky-whiteness, and looking very pretty in her jaunty travelling-suit, met them at the door. Peering over her shoulder stood Ruth--a sunburned Ruth with bright eyes and a rounder curve to her cheek than it had worn two weeks before. "We were afraid you had decided to run off and hide at the last minute," said Kitty, slipping her arm around Blue Bonnet as if determined not to risk losing her a second time. "I was only--saying good-bye," said Blue Bonnet soberly. "Blue Bonnet is like more than one famous prima donna," said Alec, "she has made half a dozen 'positively last' farewell tours!" They were off at last. Distributed equally between the buckboard and one of the farm-wagons, the We are Sevens, Grandmother Clyde, General Trent and Uncle Joe went ahead. Blue Bonnet, Alec, and Uncle Cliff followed on horseback. As they neared the bridge Blue Bonnet drew rein, and, turning in the saddle, glanced back for a last look at the weather-stained old ranch-house. The cowboys and most of the Mexicans, who had gathered to say good-bye to the Senorita and her "amigos" from Massachusetts, were already scattering about the work of the day. But in the doorway the faithful Benita still stood, waving her apron. Blue Bonnet's eyes filled.