At the door of the long, squat homestead, stood
Mrs. Brewster, waiting for an answer.
The moment she saw Polly, she called: "Din-ner-r's ready!"
"All right!" shouted the girl, waving her sun-bonnet to signify she had
heard the message.
Mrs. Brewster returned to the kitchen and Polly went back to her
father's side. He glanced up as she entered the barn, and Polly replied
to his questioning look.
"Maw said dinner's ready."
"Well, Ah reckon Noddy's all right now, Poll," said the rancher, as he
stood up to stretch his tired muscles.
"I felt sure she would be, Paw," returned Polly, positively.
"If only Jeb was about, now, Ah could leave him with Noddy, with
directions about the medicine, till we-all get back from dinner," mused
Mr. Brewster, standing in the doorway to look about for Jeb.
"Why, Daddy! Do you suppose I'd leave Noddy with Jeb for a single
moment? And just as we saved her life, too! I reckon not! I'll stop
here myself and watch her," declared Polly with finality, as she
assumed the post vacated by her father, and held the little burro's
fuzzy head upon her knees.
Sam Brewster smiled as he watched Polly bend over her pet and whisper
affectionately in the long, sensitive ear.
"Poll, Jeb will shore say you used witchcraft on the burro; he said
Noddy was done for--being buried under that slide the way she was."
"Noddy _would_ have been done for if Jeb had had her in charge; but she
just couldn't refuse to live, with me right here calling her back,
you know.
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