“Look out, Ruth!” shrieked her chum, “you’ll be killed!”
Ruth had no intention of getting near the heels of the horse that had broken its harness. She darted around to his head and seized his bridle. His mate was already scattering gravel down the hillside as he plunged.
Ruth, paying no attention to the shrieks of the girls or the commands of the groom and the boys, jerked the nigh horse’s head around, and so gave his mate a chance to obtain firm footing again. She instantly led both horses toward the inside of the road.
Tom was off his perch by now and had dashed forward to her aid. Amid the gabble of the others, they seemed the only two cool persons in the party.
“Oh! hold them tight, Tom!” cried his sister. “Don’t let them run.”
“Pshaw! they don’t want to run,” growled Bobbins.
The groom climbed carefully over him and leaped down into the road. Tom was looking at Ruth with shining eyes.
“You’re the girl for me, Ruthie,” he whispered in a sudden burst of enthusiasm. “I never saw one like you. You always have your wits about you.”
Ruth smiled and blushed. A word of approbation from Tom Cameron was sweeter to her than the praise of any other of her young friends. She gave him a grateful look, and then turned back to the coach, where the girls were still as excited as a swarm of bees.
They all wanted to get down into the road, until Madge positively forbade it, and Ruth swung herself up to her seat again.