Dorothy stood, swaying a little on her feet, Tavia’s supporting arm about her shoulders.
“I guess I don’t remember just what happened, but I guess I must owe my life to you, Tavia.”
“No, you don’t,” denied Tavia quickly, adding, as she pointed to the pony standing quietly enough now where she had left it. “There’s the fellow you ought to thank!”
CHAPTER XXVI
A GENTLEMAN
Dorothy looked bewildered. Swiftly and with a return of the emotion she had felt at that time of her chum’s great peril, lending eloquence to her words, Tavia told Dorothy what had happened.
“That blessed pony knew you were lying there, helpless under his feet,” she said, “and, like the gentleman and thoroughbred he is, he wasn’t going to hurt a lady if he could help it. You should have seen him, Doro, pawing the air to make sure he wasn’t touching you.
“And then when I pulled you out from under him he stood so still you would have thought he was holding his breath for fear he would move. I never saw an animal act like that. He was human, Doro!”
Dorothy took an uncertain step toward the little pony, hands outstretched, and Tavia regarded her curiously.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
There was a curious catch in her voice as Dorothy answered softly: