eon, Betty," advised Mrs. Littell. "I
assure you that they will not go without you. The men can walk the horses
about a little if it is necessary."

"I haven't been in a saddle since I left the land of oil and my own dear
Clover-pony!" cried Betty later, as she ran upstairs. "I know just where
my riding habit is. Oh, dear! I hope I have as spirited a horse as dear
Clover was. Are you all ready, Bobby? And you, too, Louise--and Esther?
Goodness me! suppose Carter had broken down on the road and hadn't brought
me back in time----

"Libbie! For goodness' sake don't sit down in that chair. That package has
got the loveliest orange silk over-blouse in it. Wait till you see it,
Bobby."

She fairly dragged the plump girl, Libbie, away from the proximity of the
chair in question and then began to scramble into her riding dress. The
clatter of hoofs was audible on the drive as she fixed the plain gold pin
in her smart stock.

"Of course," Betty said with a sigh, "one can't wear a locket, with or
without a chain, when one is riding. That dear locket Uncle Dick gave me!
I suppose it is safe enough in my bag. Well, I'm ready."

They all ran down to the veranda to see the mounts. Betty's was a
beautiful gray horse named Jim that she had seen before in the Fairfields
stables.

"He's sort of hard-bitted, Miss," said the smiling negro who held the
bridle and that of Bobby's own pony, a beautiful bay. "But he ain't got a
bad trick and is as kind as a lamb, Miss."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of him," declared Betty. "You ought to see my Clover.
All right, Uncle Dick, I'm up!"

They were all mounted and cantering down the drive in a very few minutes.
Even plump little Libbie sat her steed well, for she had often ridden over
her own Vermont hills.

"I don't know where we're going, but I'm on my way!" cried Betty, who was
delighted to be once more in the saddle.

"We're going right across country to Bolter's stock farm," Louise told
her. "Here's where we turn off. There will be some fences. Can you jump a
fence, Betty?"

"I can go anywhere this gray horse goes," declared Betty proudly.

But Bob rode up beside her before they came to the first jump. "Look out
for the icy places, Betsey," he warned her. "None of these horses are
sharpened. They never have ice enough down here in Virginia to worry
about, so they say."

Which was true enough on ordinary occasions. But the frost the night
before had been a hard one and the air was stil