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“Yes, Aunt Grenertsen. I’ll go right up now, this minute.” A miller bequeathed to his three sons all he possessed of worldly goods, which consisted only of his Mill, his Ass, and his Cat. It did not take long to divide the property, and neither notary nor attorney was called in; they would soon have eaten up the poor little patrimony. The eldest son had the Mill; the second son, the Ass; and the youngest had nothing but the Cat. HOW impossible Father was to understand! Why couldn’t he decide about the little horse that Carlstrom had said “the young gentleman” might ride? Johnny Blossom had been out to the Kingthorpe stables a number of times to see the horse. My, oh, my! but it was a beauty! It was small and trim, dun-colored, with black mane; and oh, how swiftly and gracefully it could run on those slender legs! No, Father could have no idea how remarkable it was that Carlstrom had offered to let him ride—and such a horse as that!.

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The man laughed. “Even the Grand Canyon can’t keep a good, healthy appetite down for long, can it? I guess supper is pretty nearly ready now. But wait a minute—here is someone I want you to know.” Finally something was said which was more than the redman could stand. He got up and in a dignified manner moved to the spot where his tormentors were sitting. He spoke to them in Spanish. A smile went round, but Mother was crying and Father, with arms folded, was looking up earnestly at Johnny. From amidst the group of workmen, old Rolfsen, foreman at the wharf, elbowed his way to the table. “I want to know if you will come to a party on Saturday at Kingthorpe, Madame Bakke,” said Johnny..