“That is all right!! But don’t you call me a baby again! I’ll beat you shooting yet! See if I don’t!” flung back the girl. During the next week, while the boys were at Selish with the shipment of steers, Bess practiced with the little rifle at every opportunity, and her progress was marked indeed. “Mauchacho is feeling gay this morning, Bess,” said Mrs. West, as she and the girl mounted and started for the ferry at Polson. The dainty horse shook his head and side-stepped first one way and then the other. He seemed to know and feel that he carried a graceful rider, and was doing these little extra steps to add to the charming picture. Bess’ lithe body swung to each new antic, and the ruddy glow of health on her cheeks told how keen was the enjoyment. “My! how dearly I love to feel a horse under me!” she cried as she leaned forward to smooth a strand in the horse’s mane. “It seems to me that I shall hate ever having to go on wheels again.” Mrs. West rode like one thoroughly accustomed to the saddle, erect and well poised, with her right arm clinging down by her side, and the reins held firmly up in the left. She, too, rode astride, and her eyes were bright with as keen an enjoyment as the happy girl’s by her side. “It does put new life into one, dear, to be on a horse,” responded the older woman. “I have not had a ride for ever so long, and this is surely a delight.” Just as they reached Polson they could see on the opposite shore of the river several cowboys and half a dozen Indians driving some fifty or sixty head of cattle. The water in the lake was still very high,—in fact it had risen two feet since the day before, and now came pouring into the river, its outlet, with terrific speed. The roar of the falls about a half-mile below the ferry was distinctly heard, and told of the immense volume of water which was pouring and bounding over the huge rocks and precipice.