fleecy cloudlets.

They tore over the paddock, shouting at the ponies laughing, hurling
defiance at each other. At first Harry kept his lead; but weight will
tell, and presently Wally was almost level with him, with Jim not far
behind. Bobs had not gone too well at first--he was too excited to get
thoroughly into his stride, and had spent his time in dancing when he
should have been making up his handicap.

When, however, he did condescend to gallop, the distance that separated
him from the other ponies was rapidly overhauled. Norah, leaning forward
in her stirrups, her face alight with eagerness, urged him on with voice
and hand--she rarely, if ever touched him with a whip at any time.
Quickly she gained on the others; now Harry was caught and passed, even
as Jim caught Wally and deprived him of the lead he had gaily held for
some time. Wally shouted laughing abuse at him, flogging his pony on the
while.

Now Norah was neck and neck with Wally, and slowly she drew past him and
set sail after Jim. That she could beat him she knew very well, but the
question was, was there time to catch him? The big tree which formed the
winning post was very near now. "Scoot, Bobsie, dear!" whispered Norah
unconscious of the fact that she was saying anything unmaidenly. At any
rate, Bobs understood, for he went forward with a bound. They were
nearly level with Jim now--Wally, desperately flogging, close in the
rear.

At that moment Jim's pony put his foot into a hole, and went down like a
shot rabbit, bowling over and over, Jim flung like a stone out of a
catapult, landed some distance ahead of the pony. He, too, rolled for a
moment, and then lay still.

It seemed to Norah that she pulled Bobs up almost in his stride.
Certainly she was off before he had fairly slackened to a walk, throwing
herself wildly from the saddle. She tore up to Jim--Jim, who lay
horribly still.

"Jim--dear Jim!" she cried. She took his head on her knee. "Jim--oh,
Jim, do speak to me!"

There was no sound. The boy lay motionless, his tanned face strangely
white. Harry, coming up, jumped off, and ran to his side.

"Is he hurt much?"

"I don't know--no, don't you say he's hurt much--he couldn't be, in such
a second! Jim--dear--speak, old chap!" A big sob rose in her throat, and
choked her at the heavy silence. Harry took Jim's wrist in his hand, and
felt with fumbling fingers for the pulse. Wally, having pulled his pony
up with difficulty, came tearing