Harry had Eleanor on her feet, but he could see that she was suffering intensely. He did not know what to do. The rest of the riding party was well out of sight. He did not like to leave Eleanor alone while he galloped after them; yet he did not believe that she would be able to ride on.
"Can you fix my saddle girth, Harry?" questioned Eleanor. "We shall be left behind sure enough, and Miss Jenny Ann will be angry with me."
It took Harry quite ten minutes to mend Eleanor's saddle girth. She sat limply on the grass, hoping that the pain in her shoulder would pass. It did not, but she managed, with Harry's help, to get back on her horse.
Harry started off at a brisk canter, a little uneasy. He and Eleanor were entirely unfamiliar with the country through which they were traveling. There were roads that intersected each other every few miles. These were not marked with sign-posts and Harry had no idea in what direction lay the old sulphur springs.
But Nellie was not following him. He reined up and rode back to her. "What's the matter now?" he asked impatiently.
"I am so sorry, Harry," apologized Eleanor. "I think I can ride, but I can't go fast; it hurts my shoulder so dreadfully." Eleanor's soft brown eyes were filled with tears, which she tried in vain to keep from falling. Her pretty, light-brown hair, which she had braided and tied up with a black velvet ribbon, hung in a long plait down her back.
Slowly, keeping the horses in a walk, Harry and Eleanor continued their journey. Harry hoped that some one would ride back to see what had delayed them. Eleanor knew that no one would. Madge would think that they had purposely tarried. She would say so to the others, and no one would seriously miss them until after the arrival at the picnic grounds.
But Eleanor and her companion conquered another mile of the way, when they came to what Harry had feared, two roads that crossed their path like two sides of a triangle, each leading in a totally different direction.
Both riders reined up. Harry found a spring and Eleanor felt refreshed after drinking and bathing her face in the cold water. But which road should they take? They had both given up all hope of rejoining the rest of the party on their way to the springs; all the two now dreamed of was ultimately to arrive there. After careful consideration Harry and Eleanor chose the wrong road.
The old sulphur springs had been a fashionable summer resort in Virginia twenty-five years before. It still had its famous sulphur well and a dozen or more brick cottages in various stages of dilapidation. The big hotel had been burned down and no one had attempted to rebuild it.