t. Then in a flash he was once more in the saddle. Blue Bonnet had
just managed to catch her breath,--when it was taken away again. For
before the boy had put his right foot in the stirrup, he was out of
the saddle once more, lying all of a heap in the grass, while his
horse with a wicked kick-up of his heels, vanished around a turn in
the road.

Not daring to trust the reins out of her hands a second time, Blue
Bonnet almost pushed Sarah from her seat. Fearfully the girl
approached and bent over the fallen hero; to her relief she saw that
his eyes were open. He blinked queerly for a moment, then gave a gaspy
little laugh.

"I'm all right. Don't worry. It's knocked the breath out of me--that's
all," he managed to say at last; and then, after another pause, he
scrambled up to a sitting posture.

"I'm so sorry," said Sarah, finding her voice. "I hope you're not
seriously hurt."

"I'm--quite whole!" he assured her, and stopped with a wince of pain.
"It's my wrist, I reckon--broken or sprained." He examined the injured
member closely and after a vain attempt to lift it said briefly:
"Broken. Isn't that the limit?"

"Oh, dear," exclaimed Sarah, all sympathy. "What shall we do?" She
approached Blue Bonnet with a very serious face. "We shall have to get
a doctor to set his arm right away," she said in a low tone. "You know
the bones go crooked if they're not set soon."

"If he can get up into the buckboard we can take him to the doctor,
that'll be quicker," replied Blue Bonnet.

Sarah went back to the boy. He still sat, rather dazed and white,
looking disgustedly at his injured arm. "Say," she began
hesitatingly; she wished she knew his name--"say" was so plebeian;
"--are you too badly hurt to get into the buckboard?"

"No, indeed," he replied cheerfully. "Be--with you--in a minute. But
sorry--to trouble you."

"It's no trouble," said Sarah. "We're terribly sorry about your arm."

"Nothing much,--only a bother," he maintained stoutly, setting his
teeth as he said it and scrambling to his feet. Then he swayed and
would have fallen if Sarah had not caught him. He clung to her for a
moment, fighting the dizziness with all the pride of his seventeen
years, then giving in sheepishly, let her lead him to the buckboard.
Once there he leaned weakly against the wheel, while the two girls,
anxious and frightened, yet too considerate of his feelings to show
their concern, watched him in speechless sympathy. At last he
strai