“How could we be, when we haven’t turned off the trail?” Penny called over her shoulder.
She rode ahead on a sorry looking nag appropriately named Bones. The animal was more easily managed than the skittish mare Louise had chosen at Williams’ Livery Stable, but had an annoying appetite for foliage.
“Mr. Williams’ directions were clear enough,” Penny resumed. “He said to follow this trail until we reach a little town named Delta.”
“Providing we survive that long,” Louise interposed crossly. “How far from Delta to Sleepy Hollow?”
“Not more than two or three miles. And once we get down out of these hills into the valley, the going should be much easier.”
Penny spoke with forced cheerfulness. In truth, she too had wearied of the trip which in the last hour had become sheer torture instead of adventure. Her freckled face was blotched with mosquito bites. Every hairpin had been jolted from her head and muscles fairly screamed a protest. Louise, on an unruly horse, had taken even more punishment.
Penny gave Bones a dig in the ribs. The horse quickened his step, weaving a corkscrew path around the trunks of the giant trees.
Gradually the tangle of brush and trees began to thin out. They came at last to a clearing at the brow of the hill. Penny drew rein beside a huge, moss-covered rock. Below stretched a beautiful rich, green valley through which wound a flood-swollen river. From the chimney-tops of a cluster of houses smoke curled lazily, blending into the blue rim of the distant hills.
“Did you ever see a prettier little valley?” Penny asked, her interest reviving. “That must be Delta down there.”
Louise was too weary to look or answer. She slid out of the saddle and tossed the reins over a tree limb. Near by a spring gushed from between the rocks. She walked stiffly to it and drank deeply of the cool water.