"Oh, it wouldn't be spying," argued Harry. "If I think the fellow is going to get us in trouble, I believe it is my duty to keep a close watch on him."
"He'll be awfully angry," sighed Eleanor.
Harry made no answer, but merely smiled contemptuously.
Eleanor's horse was ambling down a road that was cut along the foot of a tall hill. On the other side there was a steep declivity that dropped nearly twenty feet to the ground. A low rail fence separated the embankment from the road, which was rough and narrow.
All of a sudden Eleanor's horse began to shy off to one side of the road. The more Eleanor pulled on her left rein, the more her horse moved toward the right; and on the right side of the road was the precipice.
One of her horse's forefeet went down beneath the level of the road. Eleanor tried to rein in, but she felt herself sliding backward over the right side of her horse.
"Harry!" she cried desperately. Harry Sears turned in amazement. He was not in time. Eleanor rolled off her horse. In falling she struck her back on the rail fence. But the fence saved her life. She tumbled forward toward the road, instead of rolling down the steep embankment.
Harry was off his horse in a moment. Eleanor was huddled on the ground, her face white with pain. She had fallen off her horse, though the animal had not tried to run away. It had stumbled back into the road and stood waiting to know what had happened.
"Your saddle girth broke, Eleanor," explained Harry. "Are you much hurt?"
"No-o-o," replied Eleanor bravely, with her lips trembling. "I believe I have bruised my shoulder, but it isn't very bad."