“I’ve an idea,” said Katherine suddenly.
“What is it?” asked Sahwah.
“We’re not getting to the station nearly as fast as we ought to,” said Katherine, “and what’s more, 235 there’s no hope of our going any faster on foot. I’ll ride Sandhelo in. He’s lots stronger than we are and can hold up against the wind where we can’t. It’s the only way we can get the word to the station in time. I didn’t think of riding him before, because the beach was so rocky I was afraid he would break his leg in the dark, but from here it seems to be smooth.”
However much the boys thought it was their duty to carry the message to the station rather than the girls’, they saw the worth of Katherine’s advice. They thought of the Huronic lying out on the reef, pounded by the waves, and gave in to her at once without discussion.
All this time Katherine had been leading Sandhelo because she could hang on to him and keep her balance when the wind threatened to sweep her off her feet.
“Get ready for business, now, old chap,” she said to him. “It’s time for your act.” And, climbing on his back, she bent low over his neck and urged him forward with a cluck and a poke.
But Sandhelo chose this crisis to indulge in a return of his artistic temperament. Not an inch would he budge. “What shall I do?” wailed Katherine, when all her clucking and prodding had been in vain.
“Try riding him backward the way you did that day in the circus,” screamed Sahwah.
Katherine whirled around on her stubborn mount 236 and unexpectedly gave his tail a smart pull. With a snort of indignant surprise Sandhelo threw out his legs and started forward. Katherine caught her balance from the shock of starting, clamped her knees into his sides and hung on grimly to the blanket that had been strapped around his middle to keep the balsam boughs from pricking him.
Never was there a more grotesque ride for life. Instead of the beautiful heroine of fiction galloping on a noble steed here was a lanky girl riding backwards on a temperamental trick mule, hanging on as best she could, holding her breath as he pounded along in the darkness, expecting every moment that he would go down under her and praying fervently that he would not take it into his head to stop. But Sandhelo, under the impression that he was running away from something, kept on going from sheer fright, and as his early life had been spent waltzing on a revolving platform, he was able to keep a footing where any other steed would have broken his legs.