Ostensibly I was not present at these proceedings, and am ignorant of them; but I was where I could see.  I was afraid of one thing—­ the jealousy of the other children of the post; but there is nothing of that, I am glad to say.  On the contrary, they are proud of their comrade and her honors.  It is a surprising thing, but it is true.  The children are devoted to Cathy, for she has turned their dull frontier life into a sort of continuous festival; also they know her for a stanch and steady friend, a friend who can always be depended upon, and does not change with the weather.

She has become a rather extraordinary rider, under the tutorship of a more than extraordinary teacher—­BB, which is her pet name for Buffalo Bill.  She pronounces it beeby.  He has not only taught her seventeen ways of breaking her neck, but twenty-two ways of avoiding it.  He has infused into her the best and surest protection of a horseman—­confidence.  He did it gradually, systematically, little by little, a step at a time, and each step made sure before the next was essayed.  And so he inched her along up through terrors that had been discounted by training before she reached them, and therefore were not recognizable as terrors when she got to them.  Well, she is a daring little rider, now, and is perfect in what she knows of horsemanship.  By-and-by she will know the art like a West Point cadet, and will exercise it as fearlessly.  She doesn’t know anything about side-saddles.  Does that distress you?  And she is a fine performer, without any saddle at all.  Does that discomfort you?  Do not let it; she is not in any danger, I give you my word.

You said that if my heart was old and tired she would refresh it, and you said truly.  I do not know how I got along without her, before.  I was a forlorn old tree, but now that this blossoming vine has wound itself about me and become the life of my life, it is very different.  As a furnisher of business for me and for Mammy Dorcas she is exhaustlessly competent, but I like my share of it and of course Dorcas likes hers, for Dorcas “raised” George, and Cathy is George over again in so many ways that she brings back Dorcas’s youth and the joys of that long-vanished time.  My father tried to set Dorcas free twenty years ago, when we still lived in Virginia, but without success; she considered herself a member of the family, and wouldn’t go.  And so, a member of the family she remained, and has held that position unchallenged ever since, and holds it now; for when my mother sent her here from San Bernardino when we learned that Cathy was coming, she only changed from one division of the family to the other.  She has the warm heart of her race, and its lavish affections, and when Cathy arrived the pair were mother and child in five minutes, and that is what they are to date and will continue.  Dorcas really thinks she raised George, and that is one of her prides, but perhaps it was a mutual raising, for their ages were the same—­thirteen years short of mine.  But they were playmates, at any rate; as regards that, there is no room for dispute.