Betty Gordon at Mountain Camp | Page 7

in a shake?" murmured Betty, as the soup was
placed before her. "And I am hungry."
"A milk-shake should be absorbed in a shake," observed Bob
Henderson, grinning at her from across the table.
"I need more than that, Bob, after what I have been through this
morning. Such a job as shopping is! And oh, Bobby! I've got the
loveliest thing to show you. You'll just squeal!"
"What is it?" cried Bobby, eager and big-eyed at once. "Do hurry your
luncheon, Betty. We've all got to change, and it's almost time."

"Time for what?" demanded Betty, trying to eat daintily but hurriedly.
But Mrs. Littell called them to order here. "Give Betty time to eat
properly. Whatever it is, Betty, it can't begin until you are ready."
"I'm through, Mother," said Bobby. "May I be excused? I'll have to
help Esther, you know. You'd better forget your appetite, Betty," she
whispered as she passed the latter on her way out of the room. "Time
and tide wait for no man--or girl either."
"What does she mean?" wondered Betty, and became a little anxious as
the others began to rise, too, and were excused. "Have we got to change?
What is it--the movies? Or a party? Of course, it isn't skating? Even if
there was a little scale of ice last night, it would never in this world
bear us," added Betty, utterly puzzled.
Bob Henderson had slipped around to her side of the table and leaned
over her chair back to whisper in Betty's ear:
"You've got to be ready in twenty minutes. The horses won't stand this
cold weather--not under saddle."
"Saddle! Horses!" gasped Betty Gordon, rising right up from the table
with the soup spoon in her hand. "I--I don't believe I want any more
luncheon, Mrs. Littell. Really, I don't need any more. Will you please
excuse me?"
"Not if you run away with my spoon, Betty," laughed her hostess. "It
was the dish that ran away with the spoon, and you are not a dish,
dear."
"She'll be dished if she doesn't hurry," called Bob from the door, and
then he disappeared.
"Sit down and finish your luncheon, 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