“Good idea!” returned Dorothy, also dismounting with relief. “It takes a little time to become accustomed to horseback after you’ve been out of the saddle for a while. Whoa, now! What’s the matter?”
This last remark was addressed to the horse, who had snorted and reared suddenly. His ears lay flat against his head and his eyes were distended with some nameless terror.
At the same moment Tavia’s pony showed symptoms of fright and danced nervously off the trail, being brought back to it only by persistent persuasion on Tavia’s part.
“Now, what on earth ails the beasts?” said Tavia, in exasperation. “Stand still there, will you? Do you want me to think you have St. Vitus’ dance?”
“Something scared them—” began Dorothy.
“Oh, you don’t say!” Tavia’s retort was sharp and sarcastic, for the action of the ponies had alarmed her more than she cared to admit. “I could almost believe that without being told.”
Dorothy took no notice of the acid in Tavia’s tone, but continued to soothe her frightened pony.
After a moment of petting and coaxing he consented to go on again, but his ears moved nervously and he walked daintily as though the rough ground of the trail were a carpet of eggs.
Tavia conquered her pony also, but as they went on again she was conscious of a nameless dread creeping over her.
Had she really heard something back there in the shadows of the woodland or had it been only an oversensitive imagination?