The pony reared, turned to one side, and at that moment Darry reached his head and caught the reins, close to the bit. He pulled the pony’s head down with all his strength, speaking at the same time reassuringly.
“Whoa, old boy. Steady now, steady. Nothing’s going to hurt you. That’s the ticket. Nice little fellow, nice old boy.”
The pony stood still, bobbing his head and nervously pawing at the dock. It was an easy matter then for Darry to turn him about and head him back to shore.
Meanwhile the others had rushed to the rescue of the bedraggled and raging girls. They had fallen into the muddy part of the lake, and had literally to be dragged out upon the dock. Their natty suits were covered with mud and slime, their hair had come loose from the pins, and their faces were bespattered with mud. An unpleasant spectacle, and the worst of it was that Belle and Sally knew it full well.
Without a word of thanks and with glances that were blacker than the mud that covered them, they climbed once more into the pony cart and drove away.
The boys and girls waited until they were out of sight before giving way to their hysterical mirth.
“Poor Belle! Poor Sally!” gasped Amy, as they turned back toward the lodge where Miss Alling was waiting for them. “I never saw anything so screamingly funny in my life.”
“Served Belle Ringold right!” said Jessie, indignantly. “Imagine whipping that darling pony!”
“Well, he got even with a vengeance,” chuckled Amy. “Belle and Sally won’t forget that ducking in a hurry.”
It was arranged that early on the next day they would pack a lunch and tramp through the woods to the station of the forest rangers. Miss Alling, who said she had come up to the lodge for a much needed rest, would not join them on this jaunt, declaring that forest rangers were no novelty to her and that she would enjoy a quiet day in her hammock more than a long hike through the woods.