The relation between Ginger and his young mistress was remarkable for the confidence and affection each had in and for the other. He was now five years old, and Kate had trained him herself, but had never used whip, spur, or severe curb during her long and patient training. Consequently Ginger responded cheerfully and promptly to her every command. His education had been based upon gentleness and affection. Her love for him was reciprocated in a manner bordering upon human intelligence, thus confirming the theory that kindness is more effective in subordinating the brute creation to our will than the club or kindred harsh measures. Kate's pony had never been confined by fence or lariat; he roamed at will all over the beautiful prairie or in the timber surrounding Errolstrath. Yet day or night, in sunshine or in storm, if Kate required his services, she had only to go and call him, and if within the sound of her voice, he would come galloping up to her, neighing cheerfully. When he arrived where she stood, bridle in hand, waiting for him, he would affectionately rub his nose on her arm or shoulder, and submissively follow her to the house. If he happened to be a long way off when she went to seek him, she would jump on his bare back and ride him home. He was always rewarded on these occasions with a lump of sugar or salt, of both of which he was very fond. In the three years of their companionship neither girl nor pony had ever deceived each other: his sugar or salt was never forgotten, nor had he once failed to respond to her summons. It made no difference when Kate wanted to go anywhere, whether she mounted Ginger bareback and bridleless, or with saddle. Under either condition she was perfectly at her ease, and he equally obedient to her voice, by which alone she frequently guided him. He was as fleet as the wind, and more than once Kate had run down a cottontail rabbit in a spirited chase over the prairie. She had christened him Ginger, not because there was the slightest resemblance to that spice in his color, but rather for the "spice" in his nature. Mr. Tucker rode his favorite large roan horse, which he had brought to the ranche with him, and which had carried him so bravely on the long and wearisome trip to the Elkhorn. The happy little party left Errolstrath about seven o'clock, followed by the old hounds Bluey and Brutus, which were as anxious as their young masters for the excitement of the impending chase. They rode down the Oxhide under the shade of the elms which fringed its border, until they arrived at the open prairie a mile from the ranche. There the dogs were ordered ahead, and began to run, eagerly looking out for a sight of any foolish rabbit, cottontail or jack, that might be out on the level stretch of country over which the hunters were now loping.