"Then come on, Merle, and we'll show them we're not the inferior sex," laughed Mrs. Lester. "I can't let Dick get superior!"
The two big horses thundered off ahead, and close behind them came Olaf and Delight, each capering with joy at the sudden gallop. In and out they went among the trees, finding natural jumps everywhere and an occasional clear space where they could put on speed. The noise of the hoofs came to Dick and the other boys as they circled round the great paddock, so wide that the fences were out of sight. Dick shouted with joy, and bore across until he was riding abreast of his mother, yelling encouragement at each big log. He was more than ever sure that nobody had ever had a mother like her!
Merle shot ahead of them suddenly, and set to work to overhaul her father and Mr. Lester. Her pony was a beautiful black, full of fire and breeding; he jumped like a deer, and took his logs almost at racing pace. Merle sat him as though she were part of him—leaning forward a little at each leap, and lifting him at the log with little inarticulate words of encouragement. Gradually he lessened the distance between him and the great horses in front, making up by quickness in jumping more than the handicap of his shorter stride. He forged ahead at last, so stealthily that they did not realise they were being left behind, and then Merle sat down to ride him in earnest, and soon was far in the lead.
Agility put an end to the steeplechase by bolting. His feelings became too much for him altogether, and he suddenly swerved from a log, and dashed through the timber at such a pace that Dick was only saved from overhanging boughs by lying flat on his neck—in which position he could do little to check him. The others pulled up, in some anxiety, to watch him. He emerged from the trees safely, and shot across the tussocky plain beyond, where Dick at length got him in hand, and he returned more sedately, except for an occasional irrepressible caper. On the way they overtook Merle, walking Olaf back to the other horses.
"My word, that pony's a beauty!" said Dick, looking at Olaf with open respect. "And I say, you can ride!"
The black dog that had sat so long on Merle's shoulders was gone for the moment—routed by the joy of the gallop. She gave the boy something like a smile.
"He's a darling, isn't he?" she said, patting Olaf's arching neck. "He can beat any horse on the place at jumping—you ask dad if he can't."
"Well, I guess I've seen for myself this morning," Dick answered. "This chap's not too bad, either, is he? He can't beat your pony, though." He grinned. "Didn't we have a ripping go! I'm jolly glad I wasn't on old Sergeant."
The brightness suddenly faded from Merle's face. Her eyes dropped before Dick's merry ones. To her own amazement, a lump came in her throat.
"I say, what's up?" blurted Dick.