It was obvious that with Dorothy in her present condition, they could gain nothing by going on. The only sensible thing, under the circumstances, was to return to the safety and comfort of the ranch. Mrs. Hank Ledger’s kitchen seemed particularly alluring to them just then!
Tavia helped Dorothy into the saddle—almost lifted her, in fact—and was more than ever alarmed to see how much the accident had weakened her chum.
Dorothy was game—game as they come—she told herself loyally. But nothing could hide the trembling hands and the fact that it required all Dorothy’s will power, even with Tavia’s help, to climb into the saddle.
It had been tacitly decided that Dorothy should ride Hero—for so she had dubbed the little horse in appreciation of what he had done—on the return journey.
But as she turned the pony’s head and looked back over the sharply-sloping trail up which they had clambered, Dorothy’s heart misgave her.
The descent would be infinitely more difficult than the ascent had been. The ponies, though sure-footed and used to the rough mountain trails, would be in constant danger of slipping on the wet rocks and moss.
Guessing her thoughts, Tavia urged her own pony close to her chum and stood for a moment beside her, staring down the steep descent.
“Looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?” she said soberly, after a moment. “But I guess we will have to risk it, Doro. We can’t very well stay where we are.”
“No, we can’t stay where we are,” repeated Dorothy automatically, adding, as she pressed her hand, palm out, against her forehead: “But I am so dizzy, Tavia. When I look down it seems as if the earth rose up to meet me.”
“Then don’t look down!” cried Tavia sharply, noting with an access of alarm that Dorothy reeled in the saddle as she spoke. “Look up as much as you can, Doro, and hold on tight to the pony’s mane if you feel yourself slipping. Oh, I wish Garry were here!”