On Came Barbara, Riding Bareback.
“Cheer up, Ruth, dear,” whispered Grace. “What difference does a little rain make? Here is some one coming along the road!”
Ruth’s eyes were full of tears; Aunt Sallie’s threat to stop their trip was more than she could bear; but she was soon smiling.
“Why, Barbara Thurston,” the girls called out together, “it can’t be you!” On came Barbara, riding bareback astride an old horse, the animal’s big feet clattering, its mane and tail soaked with rain.
“Great heavens!” said Miss Sallie, and closed her eyes.
Barbara rode up to the automobile, her hand clasped tightly in the horse’s mane.
“I’m as right as can be, Miss Sallie. I went back to that sleepy old farm, knocked and knocked for help, and called and called, but nobody would answer. Just as I gave up all hope, old Dobbin came to the porch and neighed, as if inquiring what I was doing on his premises. Like a flash I put out my hand, as though to pat him, grabbed him by the mane, hopped up here, and now you see the best lady bareback rider from Rinkhem’s Circus. I led you into this mess; now I’m going to get you out. I shall ride old Dobbin into town and come back with help.” Bab declaimed this, ending out of breath.