“Murder the liveryman,” suggested Katherine.
“But the horse is sure-footed; he didn’t lie,” objected Alice so seriously that everybody burst out laughing again.
“He told the truth, but not the whole truth,” said Rachel. “Next time we’ll ask how many bits the horse has to wear and how it takes to hills. Now what can we do?”
“We can’t go back to the woods, that’s sure,” said Katherine. “And it’s too hot to stay down here. Let’s go home and get rid of this sure-footed incubus, and then we can decide what to do next.”
The ferryman greeted them cheerfully. “Back so soon?” he said. “Had your dinner?”
“Of course not,” replied Katherine severely. “It’s only twelve o’clock. We’re just out for a morning drive. Do you remember saying that this horse was tired? Well, he brought us down the hills at about a mile a minute.”
“Is that so!” declared the ferryman with a chuckle. “Scairt, were you? Why didn’t you git them young Winsted fellers, that jest started up, to rescue yer? Might a ben quite a story.”
“We didn’t need rescuing, thank you,” said Katherine. “Did you see any men?” she whispered to Betty.
Betty nodded. “Four, driving a span. They were awfully amused. Miss King was in another of the carriages,” she added sadly. Then she caught sight of Roberta and began to laugh again. “You were so funny with that cookie in your mouth,” she said. “Were you dreadfully frightened?”
“No,” said Roberta, with a guilty blush. “I always expect something to happen. Horses are such uncertain creatures.”