hin a stone's throw of
Uncle Carter's outer gate she brought the horse down to a walk, then to
a full stop, and slipped to the ground. Her face was so pale and rigid
as she set me upon my feet that I began to tremble.

"Are you scared?" I faltered.

"Scared to death, child! Hush!"

She turned Snap's head in the direction from which we had come, and
struck him smartly with her switch, in letting go of the bridle.

"Go home, sir! Go!"

He galloped off, stirrups and mane flying, and she drew a deep, agitated
breath.

"If ever I get into such a scrape again!"

She bent low and listened; the scared look settled again upon her face.
Through the stillness of the summer afternoon, we heard a sharp "Whoa!"
faint but clear, when, as we judged, Snap neared our pursuer. The pause
of a second ensued, and the hoofs, doubled in number and resonance,
sounded nearer and nearer, thundering over the soft ground, clicking
against the stones, like a charge of cavalry. Cousin Molly Belle was so
white that a few freckles, never seen through her usually brilliant
complexion, made a line of sallow dots across her cheek bones and the
bridge of her nose. Clutching me more roughly than she had ever touched
me before, she thrust me well into the heart of a tall cedar whose
lowest boughs grew out horizontally and swept the earth.

"Don't move or speak!" she whispered fiercely and forced her way to the
hole of the tree.

I heard the grating of the bark under her feet, and felt the branches
shake, then grow quiet. She was well up the tree, and hidden by the
bushy foliage. The tumultuous beat of the charging hoofs echoed more and
more loudly. The rider would be upon us in another minute. Escape
through the gate and down the avenue to the house was out of the
question. We would have been in sight from the road for several hundred
yards, and a few seconds would be lost in opening the gate.

On my part, the adventure was, thus far, pure fun, and the excitement
delicious. I giggled in my sleeve in the anticipation of hearing the
furious hoofs sweep past and lose themselves in the distance on the
false scent. I had not had time to speculate as to why my companion was
"scared to death."

The clatter was abreast of, and behind me in the road when the
imperative "Whoa!" again arrested it. I knew the voice now. A man leaped
to the ground; hasty footsteps struck across the turf edging the
highway; dry sticks cracked, my bushy covert was jarred, and