Part 6 (1/2)

So the party crossed the long toll-bridge, the horses stepping hesitatingly and curveting a little at the swish of the noisy water, climbed the sunny hills beyond, and dipped down to a level stretch of wood, in the heart of which they chose a picnic-ground by the side of a merry little brook.

”We must have a fire,” announced Bob, who had fallen behind the procession, and now came up at the trot, just as the others were dismounting.

”But we haven't anything to cook,” objected Eleanor.

”Coffee,” grinned Bob jubilantly. ”I've got folding cups stuffed around under my sweater, and I stopped at that farmhouse back by the fork in the road to get a pail.”

”And there are marshmallows to toast,” added Babe. ”That's what I've got in my sweater.”

”I thought you two young ladies had grown awful stout on a sudden,”

chuckled the groom, beginning to pile up twigs under an overhanging ledge of rock.

”And here are some perfectly elegant mushrooms,” declared Madeline, who had been poking about among the fallen leaves. ”We can use the pail for those first, and have the coffee with dessert.”

All the girls had brought sandwiches, stuffed eggs, cakes, and fruit, so that, with the extras, the picnic was ”truly elegant,” as Babe put it.

They sang songs while they waited for the coffee to boil, and toasted Babe's marshmallows, two at a time, on forked sticks, voting Babe a trump to have thought of them.

Then they lay on the green turf by the brook, talking softly to the babbling accompaniment of its music.

Finally Eleanor s.h.i.+vered and sat up. ”Where is the sun?” she asked.

”Oughtn't we to be starting?”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”HERE ARE SOME PERFECTLY ELEGANT MUSHROOMS”]

The sky was not dark or threatening, only a bit gray and dull. The groom was to stay with the novices--Christy, Babe and Betty--who, as soon as the rest had mounted, raced down the road to get warm and also to return the pail that Bob had borrowed, to its owner. By the time they got back, after making a short call on the farmer's wife, the sun was struggling out again, but the next minute big drops began to patter down through the leaves.

The groom considered the situation. ”I guess you'll jest have to wait and git wet. Miss Hildreth's horse is skittish on ferries. I wouldn't wanter go on with you an' leave her to cross alone.”

So they waited, keeping as dry as possible under a pine tree, until the time appointed for starting to the rendezvous. It was raining steadily now. Babe's horse objected to getting wet, and pulled on the reins sullenly. The sky was fairly black. Altogether it was an uncomfortable situation.

The road to the river was damp and slippery, and most of it was a steep down-grade. There was nothing to do but walk the horses, Babe's dancing sidewise in a fas.h.i.+on most upsetting to Betty's nerves. By the time they had reached the ferry, darkness seemed to have settled, and there were low growlings of thunder. Babe's horse reared, and she dismounted and stood at his head while they waited for the ferry to cross to them.

”I guess there's goin' to be a bad shower,” volunteered the groom. ”I guess we'd better wait over in that barn till it's over. Animals don't like lightning.”

The ferry seemed to crawl across the river, but it arrived at last, and each girl led her horse on board. They were all frightened, but n.o.body showed the ”white feather.” Babe's cheeks were pale, though, as she patted her restive mount, and laughed bravely at Madeline's futile efforts to feed sugar to her tall ”Black Beauty,” who jerked his nose impatiently out of her reach each time she tried.

”Beauty must be awfully upset if he doesn't want sugar,” said Babbie, who was standing next the groom. ”He's the greed----” The next minute Betty found herself holding her own and the groom's horse, while he plunged after Babbie's, who was snorting and kicking right into the midst of everything. It had lightened, and between the lightning and the water Babbie's high-spirited mare was frantic, and was fast communicating her excitement to the others.

A minute later there was a tremendous jolt which set all the horses to jumping.

”I swan,” said the apathetic ferryman who had paid no attention to the previous confusion. ”We're aground.”

The girls looked at one another through the gathering shadows.

”How are we going to get off?” asked the groom desperately.

The ferryman considered. ”I dunno.”