She stood out before her companions and
stared at the coming herd eagerly. The black mare she loved so, however,
was not in this bunch of runaways.
The young stock swept past the watching party from Mountain Camp, their
pace rapid in spite of the hard going. They kept to the snow-covered road,
however. Behind them came half a dozen men, wind-spent already and not a
little angry.
"Why didn't you stop 'em?" bawled one red-faced fellow. "If they spread
out in some open pasture we'll be all day gathering them."
"Easy to stop 'em, I guess," returned Tommy. "They'd have trampled us
down."
"Could stop a snowslide easier, I guess," Bob suggested. "But I tell you:
We'll give you a hand collecting them. How did they get away?"
"Went over the paddock fence like a flock of sheep. Snow is so deep, you
know," said the red-faced man. "Come on, you boys, if you will. The girls
can go on to the house and Mrs. Candace will let 'em warm up. It's only a
little way."
The "little way" proved to be a good two miles; but the three girls did
not falter. They saw the big farmhouse and the great barns and snow-filled
paddocks a long way ahead.
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