Molly wheeled about and did so, but the delay made her extremely impatient, and with some contempt she remarked, as the lad came alongside:

"Why, I supposed you could ride! You looked like a boy who knew how!"

"So I do! But this thing I'm on--Call this a horse? I'd rather have a mule! How dared they give me such a thing?"

In her hurry Molly had not observed the animal which had stood saddled at the stable door, and that now seemed as ugly and tiresome a beast as her own little pony was fine. Pity then banished vexation and she exclaimed:

"You poor fellow! I don't believe Matty meant you to have that beast.

But, come on, anyway. Maybe he'll warm up after a bit, and I'll take that back--that I said about your riding. I reckon you're all right.

Anybody must be who can stick on the rack-o'-bones you've got. Touch him up a little--I'll set the pace."

Away she sped while the gaunt creature which Leslie bestrode planted his forefeet firmly on the ground and refused to lift them thence. Molly was fast pa.s.sing around a curve in the road and would then be out of sight, and Leslie's temper rose to its height. He forgot everything except his own awkward position and the fact that his lively young guest could have the laugh on him when that night's tale was told.

"Oh! you hateful beast! You won't go, eh? Well, go you shall! Hear me?

Take that--and that--and--THAT!"

Blows rained hard and fast, till the lash of the whip gave out, and the b.u.t.t took its place. Then, as if the astonished horse had just aroused to the state of things, it bolted! and the way its old heels picked up that road was the most amazing thing of all that evening's happenings.

Then, indeed, did Leslie prove himself a better horseman than he looked, and, for all time to come, his full ability to "stick." Riding ahead at a smart pace, but not her pony's best, Molly heard the footfalls behind her and swerved out of the way--not a minute too soon! Evidently, the maligned "rack-o'-bones" would otherwise have ridden her down. He pa.s.sed her like a whirlwind and then--she after him. Followed, a race to be remembered! The big horse keeping the lead, the little "calico"

pit-pattering along behind in a hopeless effort to get even.

Thus for what seemed an endless time, the long dusty road was desolate of any travellers except this pair of runaways. Sometimes a coyote yelped in the distance; occasionally some creeping thing barred the track before them; and a screech owl sent its blood-curdling cries into their ears. Otherwise they were alone in the wilderness and the night, and beyond speaking distance even of one another.

The effect was to set each culprit thinking. How wild a thing they had done! How thoughtless, how selfish! What fresh anxiety they had added to the troubled hearts back there at "Roderick's," as soon as their absence was discovered! How flat their jolly adventure had fallen!

Molly had bound Mattie to secrecy, and there was that about the western girl that convinced the other that the secret would be kept. If Mrs.

Roderick did guess what had become of them, and said so, it would be no comfort to Lady Gray and Helena; and the longer Molly pondered the matter, the more ashamed and terrified she felt. What would Aunt Lucretia say? And what her father--could he see his madcap at that moment?

In a bitter reaction of feeling the girl dropped her head upon the pony's neck, though still mechanically urging the willing creature to her utmost speed. Her thoughts were far away when, suddenly, she felt a check upon the rein and lifted her startled face.

"Why, Leslie! You scared me!"

"Were you asleep?"

"No."

"What then? Your head was down. The 'calico' was taking her own way.

What's the matter?"

"It's none--I mean, if you must know, I was crying."

"Oh! horrors! Why?"

"Because I've done such a dreadful thing. It was wicked. I had no right and--and--"

"Yes, I know. You were frightened. Well, I was, too."

Molly straightened her shoulders and pretended contempt, saying:

"I didn't know as gentlemen--'thoroughbreds,' you know--western thoroughbreds ever were fr-fri-ghtened. What--was--that?"

A curious cry had reached them and Molly finished her speech in a whisper. The horses, also, had heard it and had thrust back their ears in fear.

Just there the road skirted the edge of a forest and the cry had come from its depths. They peered into the shadows but could see nothing, and edging the pony close to Beelzebub, as Leslie's mount was named, Molly repeated her question.

"Likely a wild cat, puma, or wolf. I don't know," he answered.

"Have you heard it before? Was it that scared you?"

"No, I was afraid something would happen to you, left behind, alone. I fancy we're in no danger that way--" pointing forestward. "But--"

"'But'--what? If you thought about me why didn't you come back to look for me?"

"I couldn't. Once he got in motion this beast wouldn't stop till he--ran down like a clock."

"Pooh! You should go to a riding school! Let's go on, now, or else back.

I can't stop here with lions and panthers yelling at us! I--I--Oh! do come on! But keep tight hold of the pony's rein. Don't get away from me again."

"I shan't. I can't."

"Oh! come!"

"I tell you I can't. We're planted."

Molly's lip quivered, but she restrained her tears and tremulously entreated:

"Oh, Leslie, don't! I can't stand teasing now. This isn't funny--not a bit. Shall we go back? Or try to overtake the others?"

"We can't do either one. I tell you we're simply stuck. Settled down and gone to housekeeping. Beelzebub has finished. He won't take another step. Fact. We've got to make the best of it. If that pony of yours was as big as a decent calf we might ride double and leave this wretch to starve and think it over at his leisure. I don't see why that girl gave me such a creature. Let's get off and sit down on that rock and wait.

Something's bound to happen--sometime--if we live long enough. The folks'll come back this same road, course."

He jumped to the ground and held out his hand to her but, for a moment, she would not dismount; then as he coolly left her and walked to the rock he had pointed out, she slipped from her saddle and followed him.

But she still held fast to her bridle rein and the pony offered no resistance to the leading, though the big brute of the profane name remained in the middle of the road, his forefeet pointed forward, his hind ones backward, his whole att.i.tude one of stubborn ugliness.

Leslie had reached a point where the ludicrous side of things appeared and he remarked:

"Looks like the potato-horses I used to make when I was a kid, with matches stuck in for legs. I wonder how long he'll stand there!"

Molly smiled faintly. At present there were no alarming sounds from the forest and the boy's apparent indifference to their lonely situation relieved her own fears.

"Well, it's an 'ill wind that blows n.o.body good,' you know. That Beelzy thing is the toughest I ever rode. He's b.u.mped me up and down till I ache all over and this rock is actually soft in comparison. Here. I'll put some of these big ferns for a cushion for you, and, after all, we'll meet our folks just as soon by waiting as by going on. They must come back, you know, sure as fate. This is the only road leads to 'Roderick's', I heard them say. h.e.l.lo! Why--Beelzebub, good boy!"

A whim had seized the obstinate animal to approach his late rider and fawn about his feet, nibbling the scant gra.s.s which grew there, as the pony was already doing. In surprise at this change both Leslie and Molly laughed and forgot, for the time, that they were in such a desolate place at so late an hour.

The horse's action reminded Molly of an animal her father had once owned and she began to tell stories about him; stories that the boy matched with marvelous ones of his own. That some of these were fiction made no difference. Molly disdained to believe them but they served to pa.s.s the time as well as any better ones might have done. Indeed, fear had now left them. The rest after their hard ride was pleasant and both felt that they were simply waiting for their friends' return.

So they sat on, as composedly as if they were safe at home, till Molly's eyes, fixed upon the distant road, suddenly grew startled again.

Leslie's latest yarn had been of an Indian outbreak, or uprising, of recent date and in this neighborhood. He had heard it that evening from the men at the inn and had not paused to consider how unlikely was such an incident so near to the city of Denver. In truth, the "boys" had invented the whole story, just for the sake of impressing the young "tenderfeet"--Monty, Herbert and Leslie; and it had satisfied the jokers that these youngsters "swallered it hull."