Janet could see the reins dangling over the horse’s head, just out of her reach. Murmuring soothingly in his ear, Janet endeavored to catch the elusive reins but failed. One hand clinging desperately to the pommel on her saddle, Janet rose in her stirrups. For an instant she felt the reins in her fingers and then she had lost them again. She was quite well aware what the consequences would be if her horse threw her. She might suddenly find herself with a broken shoulder or arm or a fractured skull. The thought wasn’t at all pleasant and she set her teeth grimly, determined to stop the fool horse before something did happen to both of them.
They were coming out onto a wide plain where her horse had the best chance of all to run himself out. But she didn’t propose to stick to him until he was tired. She wanted him stopped now before he jolted all her bones loose. Clinging to the saddle and rising in her stirrups she leaned as far forward as possible. The horse lurched suddenly and it was by the merest piece of luck that she wasn’t thrown off on her face. But she clung to her saddle and persisted in her attempt to reach the reins. Finally her fingers closed on the left rein and she hung onto it desperately. She pulled with all her strength but the horse didn’t slacken in speed, not a fraction. He seemed bent on reaching some invisible object ahead and nothing could swerve him from his purpose. Janet braced her feet squarely in the stirrups, put both hands on the rein and continued to pull.
Phyllis, who was behind Gale in the race to reach Janet, saw the runaway swerve suddenly, an act all of them had been unprepared for. Janet’s horse raced parallel to its pursuers and it was a moment of lost precious time before either Jim or Tom could change the course of their own mounts. Phyllis, by the time Jim was after Janet again, had sent her horse at an abrupt angle from the group. If Janet’s horse did not swerve again, and she herself kept on at the present line, the two were bound to come together. Perhaps if they collided it would bring Janet’s horse to a halt, she reflected with a bit of humor.
For all of Janet’s tugging at the rein her horse was adamant. He did not slacken his speed until he began to feel tired. He had swerved from his course, but he would not stop. Janet, her whole attention claimed by the horse under her, did not see Phyllis until horse and rider loomed up before her. She felt herself suddenly hurled over her horse’s head as he made a mad attempt to stop himself, and the next second she found herself on top of Phyllis on the ground.
Janet rolled off her friend and sat up. She felt herself all over to be sure she was still in one piece. It had been quite a jolt, that landing on the ground. Then she turned to Phyllis. Her chum had not stirred and Janet feared the girl might be seriously hurt.
“I say, Phyll, are you all right?” Janet asked anxiously.
Phyllis opened her eyes and grinned through the dust and grime she had acquired when she pitched headlong to the ground.
“Yes,” she said thickly through a mouth full of dust. “I s’pose I’m all right, but you knocked all the wind out of me. I also saw several stars I never knew existed. But we stopped him, didn’t we?” she demanded, gazing at Janet’s horse which was standing meekly beside Phyllis’ own, all trace of rebellion gone.
“He ought to stop now, the crazy thing,” Janet said, getting stiffly to her feet. “You know, Phyll,” she said with a laugh, “you aren’t at all soft to land on. I’m all bumps and bruises.”
“You can be glad I was here to land on,” Phyllis said, “you might have picked a cactus, you know.”