“Now, now,” said the doctor, rather quickly, “he’s a nice, likely lad, but nice, likely lads aren’t any treat for Ginger--she has a whole landscape full of them, down south. Well, she can judge for herself; she’s going to ride out to Cold Spring with me this afternoon, and meet him and get our camp-fire permit.” “Oh, _doctor_!” wailed the very blond girl. “That’s playing favorites! You know Miss McVeagh looks as if she had _invented_ horseback riding--it gives her a terrible handicap!” “Won’t you come, too, Miss Milton?” Ginger wanted calmly to know. “I should say not! I won’t be a mob scene. But it’s not fair. I shall stay in my cabin all afternoon and think up ways in which I may outshine you.” “I’m sure it won’t take you long,” said Ginger, amiably. She felt a great deal older than the chattering, pretty creature; she felt older and wiser than all of them--immeasurably older and wiser than the rapt-eyed Laura. She was ready at one to ride with the doctor, but when she walked down to the corral, her Aunt Fan, panting beside her, she found Dr. Mayfield putting her saddle on his own horse. “Ginger, I’m going to desert you,” he said. “I don’t know whether Miss Fanny has confessed to you or not, but she’s inveigled me into a game of bridge.” “My dear, I simply have to play bridge after the lunches I eat here, or I’d take a nap, and that’s _fatal_! I’ve been shamefully deceived about this place, anyway--‘camp fare!’ Better food than you get at the Ritz, and much more fattening--hot biscuits--honey--” “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.”