Away hustled Harry, at his rapid limp, for a halter and Jenny, where in a stall she was munching a feed of hay as reward after her trip to town. With the interested Shep (shaggy black dog) at his heels, prepared to help, Terry hastened into the pasture and rounded up Duke, the half-buffalo, from amidst the other animals. Duke was now a yearling--grown to be a sturdy, stocky youngster since Terry had captured him and his brindled cow mother during the buffalo hunt with the Delaware Indians last summer. Knowing Terry well, and tamed to everything except work, Duke submitted to being driven out. In the ranch yard Harry was waiting with big, gaunt Jenny, already attached by collar and traces to the drag. The drag was only an old rail, heavy and spike-studded, used to uproot the brush when the ranch land was cleared. It required considerable maneuvering to fit an ox-bow around Duke's short neck, and yoke him to the drag. He seemed dumbly astonished. Jenny laid back her long ears in disgust with her strange mate. "Be patient with him, Jenny," pleaded Harry. "He's only a boy, and part Indian, while you're a cultured lady. I think," he said, to Terry, "that I'll do the driving, for the first spell on this Pike's Peak trail." Holding the lines attached to Jenny's bit (but Duke, ox-fashion, had no lines), he fell a few paces to rear. "No," he added, "that won't answer. You drive Duke and I'll drive Jenny. Get your whip." Terry stationed himself with the ox-whip at Duke's flank. Harry stepped upon the drag, and balanced. "Gid-dap, Jenny!" he bade. "G'lang, Duke!" bade Terry. Jenny, sidling as far as she could in the traces, her ears flat, started. Duke stayed. Consequently, Jenny did not get very far. "Duke! G'lang, Duke!" implored Terry, desperately, cracking his whip. "Pull, Jenny! Pull!" encouraged Harry, balancing on the drag now askew. Up went Jenny's heels, down went Duke's head, away went Harry on the drag and Terry on the run. Shep, thinking it great sport, barked gaily. "Whoa, Jenny! Whoa now!" "Haw, Duke! Whoa-haw! Gee! Whoa!" And from the cabin doorway Father Richards clapped and shouted, and Mother Richards called warnings. Harry was speedily thrown from the bouncing drag, but he clung to the lines. Having careered, plunging and tugging and side-stepping, until she was astraddle of the outside trace, Jenny stopped. Duke, who had been bawling and galloping, half hauled, half frightened, stopped likewise, the yoke crooked on his neck; and all stood heaving. "This'll never do," panted Harry. "Jenny's too fast for him--either her legs are too long or his are too short. We'll have to train them singly and hitch them tandem. That's it: tandem." "You mean one in front of the other?" wheezed Terry. "Yes." "Which where, then?"