“You can’t do any good down there, and you’d only be in the way,” Madge said. “And the danger’s over now.”
“Thanks to Ruthie!” added Helen, squeezing her chum.
“Oh, you make too much fuss about it,” said Ruth. “I just grabbed the bridle.”
“Yes,” said Mercy, from inside. “I thought I’d need my aeroplanes to fly with, when that horse began to back over the edge of the hill. You’re a good child, Ruthie. I always said so.”
The others had more or less to say about Ruth’s action and she was glad to turn the conversation to some other subject.
Meanwhile the groom had mended the harness, and now he and Tom led the leaders to straighten out the team, and the four horses threw themselves into their collars and jerked the coach-wheel out of the gutter.
The trouble had delayed them but slightly, and soon Tom was cheerfully winding the horn, and the horses were rattling down a more gentle descent into the last valley.
From this to the top of the hill on which the Steele home stood was a steady ascent and the horses could not go rapidly. Bob and Madge pointed out the objects of interest as they rolled along—the farmhouses that were to be torn down, the fences already straightened, and the dykes and walls on which Mr. Steele’s men were at work.
“When this whole hill is father’s, you’ll see some farm,” crowed Bobbins.
“But whose place is that?” demanded one of the girls, behind him, suddenly.