“Are you all right, sister mine? You are not harmed?”
“Not a bit!” she half laughed; “but there is no telling what might have happened but for the brave young man there who stopped Rex. The horse had the bit in his teeth, and I could do nothing with him.”
“We saw it—saw it all,” declared the youth. “We reached the top of the hill yonder in time to witness his act, and I must say it was as nervy and skillful as anything I ever beheld. Sir”—speaking to Frank—“I wish to thank you for your gallant rescue of my sister.”
He held out his hand, and Frank accepted it. Each felt a thrill as they crossed palms, and their eyes met, and it seemed that a bond of friendship was cemented between them.
“My name is Kenneth St. Ives,” explained the strange lad.
“And mine is Frank Merriwell,” said our hero.
“Mr. Merriwell, I am happy to know you,” declared Kenneth. “Permit me to properly present my sister.”
Smiling, Frank lifted his cap and bowed gracefully, but the girl held out her hand, her full lips parting to show her fine white teeth, as she smilingly said:
“Let me shake hands, also, Mr. Merriwell. Pardon the glove.”
On his horse, “Cousin Stephen” glared and ground his teeth.