A sleek, shy colt was suddenly inducted into the scene of action. Then there began a frisky game of maneuvers. The little, would-be rider proved as wary and nimble as the colt on which she finally succeeded in shooting a bridle. Another round of come and go, and one leg went over the slender neck, and then down the glossy back slid the lithe figure. With a wondering, protesting neigh, the colt tried all the tactics known to his species, but they were of no avail, and after circling and re-circling the ring, Pen calmly relinquished him and awaited the next offer. A wild-eyed mustang was the victim. As soon as she was mounted, he rose high on his hind feet but came down like a lamb and ended in spinning like a top around the ring. A general protest went up when a demoniacal-looking buckskin was produced. "They are horse-mad!" exclaimed Kingdon. "Margaret, this is going to stop right here." "Louis," she replied earnestly, "this is only horse-play to Pen. No, I am not punning. I didn't know she was going to make this exhibition, but some way I feel that she can easily live up to the promises in the program." With a plunge the buckskin went straight into mid-air and came down hard. Then at full speed amid a whirling of dust, he tried all his tricks, but always the little figure held her position, easily triumphant, and finally the hitherto unmountable animal again came trembling to earth and obediently followed his rider's will. "You've won!" cried the cowboys. "Now, bring me a horse, a real saddle horse--the kind you give a kingdom for!" she demanded. "I'd like to _ride_ a bit, if you don't mind." They brought her a beautiful thoroughbred. She rode around the ring a few times, and then, leaping the fence to the inclosure, was away and over the hills, her blood throbbing, her heart pounding as she felt the soft, southwest wind in her face, the siren song of freedom ringing in her ears. The divine sweetness of the mountain air was in her nostrils. She was recalled from her state of rhapsody by the sound of pounding hoofs behind her. She half turned in her saddle, expecting to see Jo. She didn't need the commanding-toned "Wait!" to rein in her horse. There was an inscrutable look in the blazing eyes of the approaching horseman, a compelling force in his broad shoulders as he rode up to her. "Where are you going?" he demanded. "Nowhere. Just riding," she replied. Her uplifted face was vivid with joy, her eyes sparkling. Suddenly a wave of color suffused her cheeks. "I wasn't running away!" she declared, suppressing a chuckle. "Honest, I wasn't. It's field day. I've been doing stunts and I just ached for a real, regular ride. It's so grand to be astride a horse and feel the world is yours! When did you come home?" "I haven't come home. I am on my way to Fowler's to subpoena a witness, and I rode this way meaning to stop but a moment. I came over the big hill just as you rode into the ring." She stole a look at his impassive face.