[CHAPTER XIX—Three Little Women’s Success]
How quickly things come about in this world. Barely an hour had passed since good old Mammy watched her “baby” ride away so happily. Never were hearts lighter than those of the riders. The girl mounted upon the beautiful thoroughbred bay horse, which had grown to know and love her voice and touch as he knew and loved his master’s; his splendid head tossing up and down in his delight; his superb neck arching in pride; his delicate nostrils distended to draw in delicious whiffs of the pine-scented air; his dainty hoofs barely touching the ground! Grace, beauty, strength incarnate as the play of the great muscles beneath that satiny coat carried him forward—one of God’s most perfect creatures. The girl riding cross-saddle felt the thrill of his action to her finger-tips. Her body swayed with every motion of the beautiful horse. She seemed a very part of him; he of her. The man riding beside her upon his fine gray was fully alive to the beauty of both rider and horse, and his eyes rested upon them with intense admiration. The soft light of the woods seemed reflected in the eyes she turned toward him—its mystery in the smile which curved his lips. It was a happy world, and these two could enjoy its beauty.
The horse Hadyn rode was a high-strung, nervous creature, alert to every sound or motion about him. As they passed through the town he had shied more than once, and required firm handling; but up in this silent mountain road there was little to excite him, and Comet’s example had a quieting influence. They had nearly reached the summit of the mountain, and just ahead the road made a sharp turn. They were close upon it when a warning honk! honk! caused Haydn to tighten his hold upon his reins. Then around the turn whirled a huge touring car. It was all over in a moment. The car skidded, hurled itself against the riders, the chauffeur made a desperate attempt to control his machine, but failed, and it tore on down the mountain entirely beyond his control, leaving behind it a prone horse and a madly excited one, which, in spite of its rider’s strenuous efforts to control it, dashed on a quarter of a mile up the mountain before he could stop it, turn and gallop back to the spot where the accident occurred. Those minutes seemed like years to Hadyn. Flinging himself from the horse, though still holding the bridle rein, he cried:
“My God, my darling!” as he caught Constance in his arms. She did not appear to notice his act or his words, but stood, white and trembling, pointing to Comet.
“But you, you, my little girl! my little girl!”
“No, no! I’m not hurt a particle. Quick! tie that mad brute to a tree and do something. I slid off as Comet fell. I’m not hurt; but he, he is dying. Oh, Comet! Comet!” And with a heart-breaking sob she fell upon her knees beside the horse. The radiator of the car had struck his forehead and stunned him, but the heavy lantern had torn that jagged wound in the perfect foreleg just below the shoulder, and from it his life blood was gushing with every heart-throb.
“But, Constance! Constance! my little girl, you must be hurt!” cried Hadyn, bending over her.
“I’m not! I’m not, I tell you,” she cried, impatiently. “Go tie that horse and come here. We must save Comet!”
With the keenest anguish he had ever known Hadyn hurried the still restless horse to a sapling, tied him securely, and then returned to Constance, who was upon her knees striving to stanch the red stream flowing from the powerful leg. Puny effort! A moment before the splendid creature lying there upon the ground had been life, strength, vigor, beauty incarnate. Now—an inanimate mass.
“My little one, oh, my little one, come away! come away! This is no place for you,” begged Hadyn, striving to draw her from the scene. She turned upon him like a fury, echoing indignantly: