THE RUNAWAY
“You dear old Cyclone! I wish they’d let _me_ ride you, some day! You
behaved beautifully with Carol. You’d be just as good if _I_ were on
your back, wouldn’t you, Beauty?” Jean stood holding the bridle of
Court’s mettlesome horse, and playing with the jet black mane.
Cyclone had completed his post-graduate course, and a few days before
Carol had ridden him and enjoyed a glorious gallop. In fact, a riding
mania had developed among the campers, the girls having learned that
there were saddle-horses to be hired. Three, warranted gentle as
kittens, were regularly engaged, and weekly riding parties were now the
rule, the girls taking turns. Jean had possessed a pony before she came
to school, and could ride well, but so far her turn had not come, and
she now looked longingly at Eunice, Nancy and Helen, whom Court and Jack
were helping into the saddles of Buttercup, Prince and Bess.
A fishing excursion was on foot as well, and the cavalcade set forth for
Shadow Brook, famous for its trout. Court on Cyclone, and Jack on Tom
Clinton’s Dandy, escorted the three girls on horseback. Douglas drove
Fräulein and ten jolly young campers in a four-seated wagon, while Miss
Hamersley and Carol were in charge of two surreys. A long journey over
hilly roads brought the party to a farm where the horses were left, and
then came a tramp through the woods to the brook.
Two hours of whipping the stream were rewarded with a fine catch. At
noon a fire was built, panful after panful of trout set sizzling, and
luncheon laid out on a rock by the brookside. The deliciously crisped
little fish were pronounced the best ever fried; but none of them did
Jean count as the result of her angling. She had, to be sure, landed one
little red-speckled beauty, but her heart had so smitten her at its
pathetic floundering that she had restored it to the water, refusing to
bereave any more Shadow Brook families.
After luncheon came a shooting match, for Carol and Douglas had brought
their rifles. Carol, Court and Jack proved themselves excellent shots,
but the honors were unanimously awarded to Douglas. After beating all
the rest at the hundred-yard range, he fastened a large piece of white
birch bark to a tree, and fired at it from a distance of twenty yards.
It looked like poor marksmanship when his first shot pierced the bark
near the top instead of in the center, as Jean had hoped; but his next
was cleverly put directly below the first, the third and fourth each
exactly under the last.
“Hold up, Scotchy! You’re wasting shot,” said Jack. But Douglas
continued to blaze away, and presently Jean, standing at his side,
beheld a large J on the birch target.
“Go it, old Hawkeye!” laughed Court, and Douglas did “go it,” until a
perfectly formed L appeared beside the J.
“How do you like my embroidery?” he asked Jean, presenting her with her
initials.
To Jean that target was a precious trophy, and she tucked it safely away
in her luncheon basket, resolved that it should have an honored place in
_Castle Afterglow_ next fall.
It was now high time to start home, and they tramped back to the farm.
Horses and carriages were brought out, and Frances, in high feather, was
helped by Jack into Buttercup’s saddle, for she was learning to ride and
was to take Eunice’s place on the journey back to camp.
“All aboard, Queenie! Hurry up, or you’ll be left behind! Get in with
me!” called Carol. Jean turned from the farmyard fence through which she
was petting two pretty Jersey calves, to find that the wagons were
filling. Snatching a handful of clover, she gave Carol’s bay span, Major
and Billy, a nibble apiece; then climbed into the surrey beside Dorothy
Stone, for Eunice was already sitting with the driver.
Carol kept at the head of the procession. Jack, on Dandy, led Buttercup
by a strap, keeping company with the four-seater driven by Douglas.
Court, Nancy and Helen, riding behind the second surrey, brought up the
rear.
On the homeward road the party suddenly encountered two enormous bears,
although hitherto the campers had penetrated the forests again and again
without meeting any larger beasts than rabbits and porcupines. These
were tame bruins, however, and their swarthy savoyard masters were
leading them towards Halcyon Inn. But wild or tame, it was all the same
to Major, on whose side the clumsy creatures came waddling out from a
cross-road. The bay span had been recommended as well broken to
automobiles, but no one had thought of inquiring whether they could
stand another and very different test of a horse’s courage, the
proximity of a bear. Major disgraced his military title by shying
violently to Billy’s side of the road, crowding his mate into the ditch.
This was too much for Billy’s equanimity. Major’s jumping and dancing
were infectious. Both horses were now plunging; a moment more and they
were running! Carol braced herself and dragged at the reins with all her
might, without the slightest effect. It all happened with the swiftness
of a dreadful dream. The terrified girls were borne onward with a fury
that made earth and sky swim before their vision. Trees whirled past,
stones flew, the carriage bounded from side to side and swayed as if it
would go over. Happily, the road was level for a space, but not far
ahead it descended a steep hill to Beaver Bridge, where it turned
sharply at right angles. _There_, unless this headlong pace could be
stayed in time, the runaway must have a fearful ending. Carol wound the
reins about her wrists and pulled in with all her strength. She might as
well have tried to check the mill-race at Beaver dam. Eunice, grasping
the side of the wagon with one hand, tried to help Carol with the other.
Behind her Jean sat, gripping the arm of her seat, dazed with the horror
of that frenzy of motion.
“Oh, let’s jump!” cried Dorothy, starting up; and the impulse to spring
out seized poor Jean also.
“No, don’t jump!” shouted Carol, over her shoulder. “Sit still! Hold
her, Jean!”
The quick command brought Jean to her senses. It came from the girl whom
she had learned to cling to and to trust. Before Dorothy could throw
herself from the carriage Jean flung her arms around her and forced her
back into her place. “Sit still, Dorothy! sit still!” she cried. “You’ll
be killed if you jump!” She dragged Dorothy down upon the floor of the
rocking, swaying carriage, and held her fast. As the frightened girl
ceased struggling there came a clatter of hoofs behind. Like a black
thunderbolt Cyclone swept up alongside the runaway, and Court seized
Billy’s bridle.
* * * * *
The instant that Major had shied and plunged at the sight of the bears
Douglas and Miss Hamersley had pulled up, telling the girls to get out
and stand by the roadside. Court ordered Nancy and Helen to ride back to
a safe distance, lest their horses should become excited, and then,
putting Cyclone to the gallop, shot after the runaway. Jack dismounted
and lifted Frances from her horse; then, vaulting into his saddle again
he galloped after his brother. Douglas, as the last girl leaped from his
wagon, sprang down and held his horses with one hand and the now dancing
sorrel with the other. The bears came padding toward them, but Douglas
shouted at their stupid masters, and finally succeeded in turning them
back into the cross-road from whence they had come.
When Cyclone caught up with the runaway it so happened that the team had
swerved over toward Major’s side of the road, and Court had no choice
but to dash in on the side of the less terrified animal. Hope filled the
girls’ hearts as they saw him seize Billy’s bridle, but the clattering
up of Cyclone had only excited Major the more. Taking the bit in his
teeth he forced his mate along in a still madder gallop toward the pitch
of the hill.
But Court instantly changed his tactics. Jack was within speaking
distance now, and his brother, dropping Billy’s rein, shouted back to
him, “Do as you see me do!” Then, giving Cyclone his head, he dashed
forward in advance.
If the descent of the hill were once reached at this tremendous pace by
the flying team, Court knew that all chance of rescue would be over. So
did Carol, and strained desperately on the reins. To the four terrified
girls it looked as if their last hope was gone when they saw their
would-be rescuer let go of Billy and leave them. But the young man knew
what he was about, and galloped furiously on ahead, followed by Jack,
whose spirited mount was quite as swift as Cyclone. Court let his
brother come abreast and shouted his commands. Suddenly, when they had
gained fifty or sixty yards on the runaway, the girls saw them pull up
and spring to the ground. Letting Cyclone and Dandy go, they faced about
with arms outstretched, covering the whole breadth of the road.
On came the charging horses, the carriage lurching from side to side
behind them. But even Major was not so blind with crazy terror that he
could not see the human barrier before him. He slackened his pace. In
another instant the brothers, leaping to either side, sprang for the
bridles. Court grasped Major’s—Jack, Billy’s. But agile as he was,
Jack’s boyish strength proved unequal to the task. Carried off his feet,
he lost his hold and fell, barely escaping hoofs and wheels. But the
young athlete who had broken Cyclone was clinging to Major with a grip
of iron. He was swept off his feet, indeed, but nothing could break his
hold, and Major, with a strong man’s weight dragging from his head, and
with his nostrils compressed by sinewy fingers, shutting off his wind,
had no choice but to bring his wild course to an end. Before the
declivity was reached it was all over. Panting, quivering, yet subdued,
the horses stopped and stood still. Court held them and calmed them. A
moment more and Jack, too, was at their heads. The girls sprang down.
“Oh, Court!” cried Carol. “You’ve saved our lives! How can we ever thank
you! Are you really not hurt? Oh, I thought you’d be killed! How _did_
you do it? How _could_ you hold on?”
“Oh, that’s nothing when you’re in training. _You_ held on finely,
Carol!” Court tossed his own action lightly off.
“Eunice helped me splendidly,” said Carol, loyal to her chum.
“You were mighty plucky, both of you!” said Court. “How do you all feel?
Pretty badly shaken up?”
“I’m afraid poor Dorothy is,” answered Eunice. “Come and rest on the
bank till you feel better, Dot.”
Dorothy was weak, and trembling from head to foot, and the other girls,
too, were badly shaken, as their white faces showed. But they poured out
their gratitude, all in one breath, to the hero who had saved them and
the hero, just as brave, who had failed.
“Much good _I_ was!” growled Jack. “Got yanked off, the first thing!”
“You risked your life to save us!” said Carol.
“Yes,” Jean broke in. “You were perfectly splendid, Jack! You jumped
right for Billy and grabbed him, and you’re not nearly as big as Court!”
“Jackyboy’s all right!” said the taller hero, slapping his disconsolate
brother on the shoulder. “Half the battle was in making the horses slow
up before they got to us. Didn’t you see how Major weakened when he saw
us standing up in front of him like two scarecrows? And Billy, he just
wanted an excuse for stopping, and Jacky gave him a good one.”
“Jean’s a heroine, too!” said Dorothy. “I wanted to jump, but she
dragged me down on the floor and held me so tight, I couldn’t! She saved
my life!”
“I wanted to jump, myself, first,” said Jean, as Dorothy squeezed her
hand.
“You can always trust my battle maid!” said Carol. Her arm trembled as
it stole around the “little sister,” whose life had been put in her
keeping that day.
In a few moments the four-seater was brought up by Douglas, whose blood
had been all on fire to ride to the rescue. Cecily sprang from the
carriage first of all, caught Jean in her arms, held her tight, and
could not speak a word. The whole party was soon reunited; but there was
no driving home with the runaway team—the teachers would not hear of it,
even though Court offered to take the reins; nor would they allow
Frances to mount Buttercup again. Beyond the bridge was a farmyard, near
which Cyclone and Dandy were found quietly grazing. There, while the
rest went on, with Jack riding as escort, Carol, Eunice, Dorothy and
Jean waited with Court, until Douglas returned to drive them back to
camp. Major and Billy were left at the farm to be called for later.
“Isn’t somebody going to ride with me?” asked Court, as he prepared to
mount Cyclone and lead Buttercup.
Eunice and Dorothy were too much unnerved for anything but a carriage.
“My wrists are too badly strained,” said Carol. “They haven’t any _pull_
left in them. Jean hasn’t had a ride yet. How do you feel, Jeanie?”
“Fine! I’m all ready!” answered Jean, keyed up by the excitement.
“You’re a little brick!” said Court. “See here! A girl with your pluck
ought to be riding Cyclone. Want to try him?”
“Oh, Court! Really? Will you let me?” cried Jean, in ecstasy.
“I think he’s the horse for you! I’ll put the leading-strap on him—just
to please Fräulein, you know.” Court put the side-saddle on the big
black horse, changed his own to the sorrel, and jumped Jean up on
Cyclone’s back.
“The Storm Child riding the Cyclone!” remarked Carol, as she pinned a
linen dust-robe about her for a riding-skirt.
There was nothing to fear, for, with all his fire, Cyclone was obedient
to his master’s least word; and for Jean that ride was the most glorious
experience of that wonderful summer. As they neared home Court undid the
leading-strap—and to the amazement of her summer sisters, guiding her
spirited charger alone, and rising lightly to his swift trot, the queen
of the battle maids came riding into camp.