l tingling with it. In the
shady places the pools remained skimmed over. A gallop over the fields and
through the woodland paths put both the horses and riders in a glow of
excitement.

Perhaps Betty was a little careless--at least too confident. Her gray got
the lead and sped away across some rough ground which bordered a ravine.
Bob shouted again for her to be careful, and Betty turned and waved her
hand reassuringly to him.

It was just then that Jim slipped on the edge of the bank. Both of his
front feet slid on an icy patch and he almost came to his knees. Betty
saved herself from going over his head by a skillful lunge backward,
pulling sharply on the reins.

But the horse did not so easily regain his foot-hold. The edge of the bank
crumbled. Betty did not utter a sound, but the girls behind her screamed
in unison.

"Stop! Wait! She'll be killed!"

Betty knew that Bob was coming at a thundering pace on his brown mount;
but the gray horse was on its haunches, sliding down the slope of the
ravine, snorting as it went. Betty could not stop her horse, but she clung
manfully to the reins and sat back in her saddle as though glued to it.

Just what would happen when they reached the bottom of the slope was a
very serious question.

CHAPTER IV

A SECOND IDA BELLETHORNE

The ravine was forty feet deep, and although the path, down which the gray
horse slid with Betty Gordon on his back, was of sand and gravel only,
there were some boulders and thick brush at the bottom that threatened
disaster to both victims of the accident.

Swiftly and more swiftly the frightened horse slid, and the girl had no
idea what she should do when they came, bumpy-ti-bump to the bottom.

She heard Bob shouting something to her, but she did not immediately
comprehend what he said. Something, she thought it was, about her
stirrups. But this was no time or place to look to see if her stirrup
leathers were the proper length or if her feet were firmly fixed in the
irons, which both Bob and Uncle Dick had warned her about when first she
had begun to ride.

Although she dared not look back, Betty knew that Bob had galloped to the
very edge of the ravine and had now flung himself from his saddle. She
heard his boots slam into the sliding gravel of the hill. He shouted
again--that cheery hail that somehow helped Betty to hold on to her fast
vanishing courage.

"Kick your feet out of the stirrups, Betty!"

What he meant finally