Part 26 (1/2)

”Could you not turn your hat down and let me sit on that?”

”Ha, ha, ha! Why, your weight would crush it as flat as a flounder!”

”Oh, I know now!” exclaimed Capitola, with sudden delight; ”you just spread your saddle-cloth down there, and that will make a beautiful seat, and I'll sit and talk with you so nicely--only you must not want me to stay long, because if I don't get home soon I shall catch a scolding.”

”You shall neither catch a scolding nor a cold on my account, pretty one,” said the man, going to his horse to get the saddle-cloth.

”Oh, don't take off the saddle--it will detain you too long,” said Cap, impatiently.

”My pretty Cap, I cannot get the cloth without taking it off,” said the man, beginning to unbuckle the girth.

”Oh, yes, you can; you can draw it from under,” persisted Cap.

”Impossible, my angel,” said the man, lifting off the saddle from his horse and laying it carefully by the roadside.

Then he took off the gay, crimson saddle-cloth and carried it into the little clearing and began carefully to spread it down.

Now was Cap's time. Her horse had recovered from his fatigue. The stranger's horse was in the path before her. While the man's back was turned she raised her riding whip and, with a shout, gave the front horse a sharp lash that sent him galloping furiously ahead. Then, instantaneously putting whip to her own horse, she started into a run.

Hearing the shout, the lash and the starting of the horses, the baffled villain turned and saw that his game was lost; he had been outwitted by a child! He gnashed his teeth and shook his fist in rage.

Turning as she wheeled out of sight, Capitola--I am sorry to say--put her thumb to the side of her nose and whirled her fingers into a semicircle, in a gesture more expressive than elegant.

CHAPTER XVII.

ANOTHER STORM AT HURRICANE HALL.

At this, Sir Knight grew high in wroth, And lifting hands and eyes up both, Three times he smote on stomach stout, From whence, at length, fierce words broke out --Hudibras.

The moon was s.h.i.+ning full upon the river and the homestead beyond when Capitola dashed into the water and, amid the sparkling and leaping of the foam, made her way to the other bank and rode up the rugged ascent.

On the outer side of the lawn wall the moonbeams fell full upon the little figure of Pitapat waiting there.

”Why, Patty, what takes you out so late as this?” asked Capitola, as she rode up to the gate.

”Oh, Miss Catterpillar, I'se waitin' for you. Old ma.r.s.e is dreadful he is! Jest fit to bust the s.h.i.+ngles offen the roof with swearing! So I come out to warn you, so you steal in the back way and go to your room so he won't see you, and I'll go and send Wool to put your horse away, and then I'll bring you up some supper and tell old ma.r.s.e how you've been home ever so long, and gone to bed with a werry bad head-ache.”

”Thank you, Patty. It is perfectly astonis.h.i.+ng how easy lying is to you!

You really deserve to have been born in Rag Alley; but I won't trouble the recording angel to make another entry against you on my account.”

”Yes, miss,” said Pitapat, who thought that her mistress was complimenting her.

”And now, Patty, stand out of my way. I am going to ride straight up to the horse-block, dismount and walk right into the presence of Major Warfield,” said Capitola, pa.s.sing through the gate.

”Oh, Miss Catterpillar, don't! don't! he'll kill you, so he will!”

”Who's afeard?” muttered Cap to herself, as she put her horse to his mettle and rode gayly through the evergreens up to the horse-block, where she sprang down lightly from her saddle.

Gathering up her train with one hand and tossing back her head, she swept along toward the house with the air of a young princess.