before they got to the pines. Mr.
Ware was galloping far ahead of them.

"If she's gone so far she'll slow up gradually on that long hill,"
suggested Bob, trying to speak cheerfully.

"Isn't it--pretty--stony?" asked Madeline.

"Yes, but after she'd run so far she wouldn't try to throw Betty."

"Suppose we wait here. Oh, Bob, what shall we do if she's badly hurt?"

"She can't be," said Bob with a thick sob. "Please come on, Madeline.
I've got to know if she's----" Bob paused over the dreadful word.

There was a little rustling noise in the bushes beside the road. "Did
Mr. Ware have a dog?" asked Madeline.

"No," gulped Bob.

"There's something down there. Who's there?" called Madeline fearlessly,
and then she whistled in case Bob had been mistaken about the dog.

"It's I--Betty Wales," answered a shaky little voice, with a reassuring
suggestion of mirth in it. "I'm so glad somebody has come. I'm down here
in a berry-patch and I can't get up."

Madeline was off her horse by this time, pushing through the briars
regardless of her new riding habit.

"Where are you hurt, dear?" she asked bending over Betty and speaking
very gently. "Do you suppose you could let me lift you up?"

Betty held out her arms, with a merry laugh. "Why, of course I could.
I'm not one bit hurt, except scratched. The ferns are just as soft as a
feather bed down here, but the thorns up above are dreadful. I can't
seem to pull myself up. I'm a little faint, I guess."

A minute later she was standing in the road, leaning against Madeline,
who felt of her anxiously and asked again and again if it didn't hurt.

"Hasn't she broken her collar-bone?" asked Bob, who was holding the
horses. "People generally do when they have a bad spill. Are her arms
all right?"

"I suppose I didn't know how to fall in the proper way," explained
Betty, wearily. "I can't remember how it happened, only all at once I
found myself down on those ferns with my face scratched and smarting. If
Mr. Ware went by ahead of you I suppose I must have been stunned, for I
didn't see him."

"He's probably hunting distractedly for you on the hill," said Bob, glad
to have something definite to do. "I think he's caught Lady, and I'll go
and tell him that we've caught you."

Just then Professor Henderson's surrey drove up. It had come for Billy,
and Babbie had thoughtfully sent it on to bring back "whoiver's hurted,"
the groom explained. But he made no objection to taking in B