Betty Gordon at Mountain Camp; Or, The Mystery of Ida Bellethorne Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  A SECOND IDA BELLETHORNE

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

  Swiftly and more swiftly the frightened horse slid, and the girl had noidea what she should do when they came, bumpy-ti-bump to the bottom.

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

  Although she dared not look back, Betty knew that Bob had galloped to thevery edge of the ravine and had now flung himself from his saddle. Sheheard his boots slam into the sliding gravel of the hill. He shoutedagain--that cheery hail that somehow helped Betty to hold on to her fastvanishing courage.

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

  What he meant finally seeped into Betty's clouded brain. She realized thatBob Henderson, her chum, the boy she had learned to have such confidencein, was coming down that bank in mighty strides, prepared to save her ifit was possible.

  The gray horse was struggling and snorting; he was likely to tumblesideways at any moment. If he did, and Betty was caught under him----

  But she was not caught in any such crushing pressure. It was Bob's armaround her waist that squeezed her. She had kicked her feet loose of thestirrups, and now Bob, throwing himself backward, tore her out of thesaddle. He fell upon his back, and Betty, struggling and laughing andalmost crying, fell on top of him.

  "All right, Betty! All right!" gasped Bob. "No need to squeal now."

  "Who's squealing?" she demanded. "Let me up, do! Are you hurt, Bob?"

  "Only the wind knocked out of me. Woof! You all right?"

  "Oh, my dear!" shrieked Bobby at the top of the bank. "Are you killed,Betty?"

  "Only half killed," gasped Betty. "Don't worry. Spread the news. ElizabethGordon, Miss Sharpe's prize Latin scholar, will yet return to Shadysideto make glad the heart of----"

  "She's all right," broke in Tommy Tucker, having dismounted and lookingover the brink of the bank. "She's trying to be funny. Her neck isn'tbroken."

  "I declare, Tommy!" cried Louise Littell admonishingly, "you sound asthough you rather thought her poor little neck ought to be dislocated."

  "Cheese!" gasped Teddy, Tommy's twin. "You got that word out of a book,Louise--you know you did."

  "So I did; out of the dictionary. There are a lot more of them there, ifyou want to know," and Louise laughed.

  "Oh!" at this point rose a yearning cry. "Oh!" I just think he is too dearfor anything!"

  "Cracky! What's broke loose now?" demanded Tommy Tucker, jerking back hishead to stare all around at the group on the brink of the high bank.

  "Who is too expensive, Libbie?" asked Bobby, glancing at her cousin with alook of annoyance displayed in her features.

  "Robert Henderson. He is a hero!" gasped the plump girl.

  "I know that hero has torn his coat," Louise said, still gazing down intothe ravine.

  Of course Bob had played a heroic part; but the rest of those presentwould have considered it almost indecent to speak of it as Libbie did. Shecontinued to clasp her hands and gaze soulfully into the ravine. Bob,having made sure that Betty was all right, had gone down to the bottom ofthe slope and helped the gray horse to its feet. The animal was morefrightened than hurt, although its legs were scratched some and it favoredone fore foot when Bob walked it about.

  "Dear me!" cried Betty, coming closer. "Poor old Jim! Is he hurt much,Bob?"

  "I don't believe so," her friend replied.

  "Can we get him up the bank?"

  "I won't try that if there is any outlet to this ravine--and there mustbe, of course. Say! do you hear that silly girl?"

  "Who? Libbie?" Betty began to giggle. "She is going to make a hero of you,Bob, whether you want to be or not. And you are----"

  "Now, don't you begin," growled Bob.

  "I never saw such a modest fellow," laughed Betty, giving his free hand alittle squeeze.

  "Huh! Libbie will want to put a laurel wreath on my brow if I climb upthere. See! There is a bunch of laurels right over there--thoseglossy-leaved, runty sort of trees. Not for me! I am going to lead Jim outahead, and you climb up, if you want to, and come along with the rest ofthe bunch. Ride my horse, if you will, Betty."

  "So you'd run away from a girl!" scoffed Betty, but laughing. "You are nohero, Bob Henderson."

  "Sure I'm not," he agreed cheerfully. "And I'd run away from a girl likeLibbie any day. I wonder how Timothy Derby stands for her. But he's almostas mushy as a soft pumpkin!"

  With this disrespectful observation Bob started off with the gray horseand Betty scrambled up the bank down which she had plunged so heedlessly.

  Bobby was one of those who had dismounted at the brink of the ravine, andshe held out a brown hand to Betty as the latter scrambled up the lastyard or two of the steep bank and helped her to a secure footing.

  "Are you all right, Betty dear?" she cried.

  "No. One side of me is left," laughed Betty. "Wasn't that some slide?"

  "Now, don't try to make out that you did it on purpose!" exclaimed Esther,the youngest Littell sister.

  "It was too lovely for anything," sighed Libbie.

  "I'm glad you think so," said Betty. "Oh! you mean what Bob did. I see. Ofcourse he is lovely--always has been. But don't tell him so, for itutterly spoils boys if you praise them--doesn't it Bobby?"

  "Of course it does," agreed Betty's particular chum, whose real name,Roberta, was seldom used even by her parents.

  "I like that!" chorused the Tucker twins. "Wait till we tell Bob, Betty,"added Tommy Tucker, shaking his head.

  "If you try to slide downhill on horseback again, we'll all just let youslide to the very bottom," said Teddy.

  "Don't fret," returned Betty gaily. "I don't intend to take another suchslide----"

  "Not even if your Uncle Dick takes you up to Mountain Camp?" asked Bobby."There's fine tobogganing up there, he says. Mmmm!"

  "Don't talk about it!" wailed Betty. "You know we can't go, for schoolbegins next week and Uncle Dick won't hear to anything breaking in on myschooling."

  "Not even measles?" suggested Tommy Tucker solemnly. "Two of the fellowswere quarantined with it when we left Salsette," he added.

  "Oh! don't speak of such a horrid thing," gasped Libbie, who did notconsider measles in the least romantic. "You get all speckled like--like azebra if you have 'em."

  The twins uttered a concerted shout and almost rolled out of their saddlesinto which they had again mounted after assisting the girls, Betty beingastride Bob's horse.

  "Speckled like a zebra is good!" Bobby Littell said laughingly to herplump cousin. "I suppose you think a barber's pole is speckled, Libbie?"

  These observations attracted the deluded Libbie sufficiently from herhero-worship, so that when Bob Henderson came up out of the ravine to jointhem a mile beyond the scene of the accident, he was perfectly safe fromLibbie's romantic consideration.

  The boy and girl friends were then in a deep discussion of the chances,pro and con, of Betty's Uncle Dick taking her with him to Mountain Campdespite the imminent opening of the term at Shadyside.

  "Of course there is scarcely a possibility of his doing so," Betty saidfinally with hopeless mien. "Mr. Canary--Uncle Dick's friend is namedJonathan Canary, isn't that a funny name?" she interrupted herself to ask.

  "He's a bird," declared Teddy Tucker solemnly.

  "Nothing romantic sounding about that name," his brother said, with a lookat Libbie. "'Jonathan Canary'--no poetry in that."

  "He, he!" chuckled Ted wickedly. "Talking about poetry----"

  "But we
weren't!" said Bobby Littell. "We were talking about going toMountain Camp in the Adirondacks. Think of it--in the dead of winter!"

  "Talking about poetry," steadily pursued Teddy Tucker. "You know TimothyDerby is always gushing."

  "A 'gusher,'" interposed Betty primly, "is an oil well that comes in witha bang."

  "Don't you mean it comes out with a bang?" teased Louise.

  "In or out, Betty and I have seen 'em gush all right," cried Bob, as theycantered on together along a well-defined bridle-path.

  "Say! I'm telling you something," exploded Teddy Tucker, who did notpurpose to have his tale lost sight of. "Something about Timothy Derby."

  "Oh, dear me, yes!" exclaimed Bobby. "Do tell it and get it over, Ted."

  The twins both began to chuckle and Teddy had some difficulty in going onwith his story. But it seemed they had been at the Derby place the eveningbefore and Timothy had been "boring everybody to distraction," Ted said,reading "Excelsior" to the family.

  "And believe me!" interjected Tommy Tucker, "that kid can elocute."

  "And he's always been at it," hurried on his twin, giggling. "Here's whatMr. Derby says Timothy recited the first time he ever spoke a piece at aSunday School concert. You know; the stuff the little mites cackle."

  "How elegant are your expressions, Teddy!" remarked Louise, sighing.

  But she was amused as well as the others when Ted produced a paper onwhich he had written down the verse Mr. Derby said his son had recited,and just as Timothy had said it!

  "Listen, all of you," begged Teddy. "Now, don't laugh and spoil it all,Tom. Listen:

  "'Lettuce denby uppan doing Widow Hartford N E fate, Still H E ving, still pursuing, Learn to label Aunty Waite.'"

  Libbie's voice rose above the general laughter, and she was quite warm.For Libbie's was a loyal soul.

  "I don't care! I don't believe it. His father is always making fun ofTimothy. He--he is cruel, I think. And, anyway, Timothy was only a littleboy then."

  "What did he want to label his Aunty Waite for?" demanded Bob.

  "You all be pretty good," called Betty, seeing that Libbie was reallygetting angry. "If you aren't I'll ask Timothy and Libbie to my party atMountain Camp and none of the rest of you shall go."

  "Easy enough said, that, Betty," Bob rejoined. "You haven't very muchchance of going there. But, crimpy! wouldn't it be great if Uncle Dickdid take us?"

  "Remember our school duties, children," drawled Louise. "'Still H E ving,still pursuing.' We must not cry for the moon."

  Thus, with a great deal of laughter and good-natured chatter, thecavalcade trotted on and came finally to what Louise and Bobby said wasthe entrance to Bolter's Farm.

  "All our horses were raised on this farm," explained Louise. "Daddy saysthat Lewis Bolter has the finest stock of any horseman in Virginia. Muchof it is racing stock. He sells to the great stables up north. One of hismen will know what to do for your gray's scratched legs, Betty."

  For Betty had changed with Bob again and rode Jim, the horse that had sliddown into the ravine. Betty was really sorry about the scratches and feltsomehow as though she were a little to blame for the accident. She shouldhave been more careful in guiding the gray.

  Once at the great stables and paddocks, however, Betty's mind was relievedon this point. Louise had an errand from her father to Mr. Bolter and wentaway with Esther to interview the horse owner. Mr. Littell was a builderand constructor and he bought many work horses of Mr. Bolter's raising, aswell as saddle stock.

  If there was anything on four feet that Betty and Bob loved, it was ahorse. In the west they had ridden almost continually; their mounts out atFlame City had been their dearest possessions and they would have beenglad to bring them east, both Betty's Clover-pony and Bob's big whitehorse, had it been wise to do so.

  At Shadyside and Salsette, however, there had been no opportunity forhorseback riding. They had found pleasure in other forms of outdoorexercise. Now, enabled to view so many beautiful and sleek horses, Betty,as well as Bob and the others, dismounted with delight and entered thelong stables.

  While her gray was being examined by one of the stablemen, Betty wentalong a whole row of box stalls by herself, in each of which a horse wasstanding quietly or moving about. More than one came to thrust a softmuzzle over the door of the stall and with pointed ears and intelligentgaze seemed to ask if the pretty, brown-eyed girl had something nice inher pocket.

  "Hi, Miss!" croaked a hoarse voice behind her. "If you want to see abang-hup 'orse--a real topper--come down 'ere."

  Betty turned to see a little crooked man, with one shoulder much higherthan the other, who walked a good deal like a crab, sideways. He grinnedat her cheerfully in spite of his ugly body and twisted features. Hereally was a dreadfully homely man, and he was not much taller than Bettyherself. He wore a grimy jockey cap, a blue blouse and stained whitetrousers, and it was quite evident that he was one of the stable helpers.

  "This 'ere is the lydy for you to see, Miss," continued the little maneagerly. "She's from old Hengland, Miss. I come with her myself and I'veknowed her since she was foaled. Mr. Bolter ain't got in 'is 'ole stable,Miss, a mare like this one."

  He pointed to a glossy black creature in the end box. Before the animalraised her head and looked over the gate, Betty knew that the mare fromEngland was one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen.

  "Hi, now, 'ow's that for a pretty lydy, Miss?" went on the rubber proudly.

  "Oh! See! She knows you! Look at the beauty!" gasped Betty, as the blackmare reached over the gate and gently nipped the blue sleeve of thecrooked little man.

  "Knows me? I should sye she does," he said proudly. "Why, she wouldn'ttake her meals from nobody but me. I told 'em so w'en I 'eard she was soldto Hamerica. And they found Hi was right, Miss, afore hever they got 'eraboard the ship. They sent for me, an' Mr. Bolter gave me a good job with'er. I goes with Ida Bellethorne wherever she goes. That's the----"

  "Ida Bellethorne?" interrupted Betty in amazement

  "Yes, Miss. That's 'er nyme. Ida Bellethorne. She comes of the trueBellethorne stock. The last of the breed out o' the Bellethorne stables,Miss."

  "Ida Bellethorne!" exclaimed Betty again. "Isn't that odd? A horse and agirl of the same name!"

  But this last she did not say audibly. The cockney rubber was fondling themare's muzzle and he did not hear Betty's comment. The discovery of thissecond Ida Bellethorne excited Betty enormously.