Bettina wondered half a dozen times if the other girls felt as nervous as she did. Once or twice she smiled, remembering her previous experiences in riding. In the country, visiting Peggy, she had ridden over the fields occasionally, but ordinarily her riding had been confined to a riding school in Washington, or to morning rides in the parks and suburbs of Washington. It was true that she had been a little vain of her ability at jumping hurdles in the riding school contests, but her father had never been willing to have her take fences in English fashion in cross-country rides. Now, however, she wished that she had learned not how to jump hurdles but how to keep her seat winding up an almost perpendicular trail without being frightened. The little burro jogged along, now apparently standing nearly upright, now swinging from side to side, but of course the rider was perfectly safe so long as the burro did not slip. And this they never did—or so one was always told in the burro country.
Every once in a while Mr. Simpson would look back and call out reassuringly, and Bettina would unite with the other girls in cheerful replies.
Really, the scenery was so wonderful, it was annoying not to be able to give it one’s full attention!
Ahead Bettina saw the trail rising almost to a peak in front and narrowing at the same time. Involuntarily she reined in her burro and thus dropped a few yards further behind the other riders. Then it occurred to her that she would prefer walking and leading her burro for a part of the way. In this fashion she could rest and enjoy the landscape and, though Bettina did not make the confession to herself, she had really more confidence in herself than she had in her burro.
Calling ahead her intention to the others, she believed they heard. Indeed, she thought she heard Peggy laugh in her teasing, boyish fashion. Then Bettina dismounted, but kept the reins in her hands. The others could not travel very rapidly up so steep and rocky an incline, and so would not get far in advance. In case they did, they must of course wait for her until she caught up.
But Bettina was not to find walking so easy as she had expected, and then her burro would not go slowly. He kept trotting on ahead, forcing Bettina to run beside him on the narrow path until she was out of breath. The stones cut even into her heavy-soled riding boots.
She was angry; the burro was so stupid—so ridiculously devoted to one idea—like stupid human beings frequently are. He had been trained to follow his companions, and follow them he would at whatever cost. The other burros were forging ahead so that, apparently, his reputation depended on keeping his place in the line.
Once Bettina stumbled and heard the earth sliding down the ravine, but would not look. All her life gazing down upon great distances had made her sick and dizzy, but then a great many persons are affected in this same fashion.
Regaining her foothold, Bettina must at the same time have lost both her temper and her judgment. With the idea of forcing her burro to walk, she struck him with a small switch which she had picked up along the way.
Immediately, shaking his obstinate head, he jerked and ducked at the same instant. Clumsily Bettina lost her hold on the bridle and then beheld her small steed go plowing up the narrow incline, leaving her well behind.