Before any of the guards could act, Connie slid down from the fence. The racers were almost at the grandstand. With no thought for her own safety, the girl darted out onto the track, directly in the path of the onrushing horses.
CHAPTER IX
Mr. Postil’s Offer
Connie rushed forward and snatched the child up in her arms. With the riders bearing down upon her, she dived head foremost, rolling over and over at the side of the track. The horses thundered past, and were lost in a cloud of dust.
The crowd, thrilled by Connie’s act of bravery, surged forward. In vain the guards sought to keep the arena clear. Friendly hands seized Connie and the child, lifting them to their feet.
The little girl was crying piteously, but more from fright than because she had been hurt. Her only injury was a slight bruise on her arm.
“Are you all right, Baby?” Connie asked.
“You threw me down in the dirt,” the little girl said accusingly. “Just look at my pretty dress! I’m not a baby either!”
“Of course you’re not,” agreed Connie soothingly. “What is your name?”
Just at that moment a stout gentleman came hurrying up. He caught the child in his arms, hugging her tightly. Without saying a word he brushed the child’s disheveled hair out of her eyes and mopped the dirt from her face with his handkerchief.
“I don’t believe she’s hurt, sir,” declared Connie. “Only shaken up a bit.”