"I like to ride in the rain," said Penny. Her face lighted as a thought possessed her. "Have you ever ridden up the side of Thunder Mountain?" she asked. Sawtell looked at her quickly. After a pause, he said, "Why?" "When I was younger, they used to tell me that no one could ride through the tangle of weeds and things on that mountain." Sawtell nodded with a trace of a squint in his eyes. "But," continued Penny, "I went there anyway, and I found a trail that could be followed right up to the peak. I wonder if that trail is still there." Sawtell shook his head slowly. "I know about that trail," he said, "but it's all overgrown now and you'd break the leg of a horse you tried to ride up there." Penny couldn't conceal her disappointment. She mounted gracefully and swung Las Vegas away from the group of buildings. Most of Penny's enthusiasm for her ride was dissolved by the statement that the old trail up Thunder Mountain was gone. She gazed wistfully at the huge tangle of green things that rose to such majestic heights. "Darn it, Las Vegas," she complained to the mustang, "everything's changed here." She looked back toward the house and noticed that in riding without a definite direction she had unconsciously followed the route of her explorations of another day. She had placed the saddle shed between her and the house so that Uncle Bryant, if watching, would not see where she went. She pulled off her hat and drew the pins from her hair. It fell in soft waves, which were rapidly becoming wet, to her shoulders. Thunder rumbled somewhere overhead and rain beat her cheeks. She seemed to feel an uplifting as the wind swept her hair straight out. She thrilled to the stinging rain like an old salt returning to the spray of the sea. She slapped Las Vegas on the rump. "Come on!" she cried. Las Vegas dropped his ears and went. The horse stopped at the foot of Thunder Mountain where the tall brush and dense trees blocked the way. He turned his head as if to question Penny: "Right or left, which will it be?" This was the spot where the old trail had once begun. Penny glanced back toward the distant ranch house and the buildings that surrounded it. Sawtell had said the trail was now impassable. Penny was in the mood that Uncle Bryant had once termed "cussed contrariness." "Well, what're we waiting for?" she called to Las Vegas. "Are you scared of a few shrubs?" She heeled the mustang, at the same time whacking her hat against his flank. "_Giddup!_" The mustang lunged into the tangle. Thorns tore at his fetlocks and raked his sides. Penny was nearly swept from the saddle by a low branch. Brush slapped and scratched her. Only a streak of Cavendish stubbornness, and the fact that it was almost impossible to turn, kept her going. Las Vegas seemed determined to make the girl regret her decision as he plunged ahead.